


Tabula Rasa

by fandammit



Category: The 100
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-27 15:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6290113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandammit/pseuds/fandammit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We were,” he hesitated for a moment, then continued on. “We were together for a while.”</p><p>He almost flinched as he said it. He had meant the words to be casual, but instead they felt cruel; an incomplete meanness to them that hid all that he and Abby had been to one another, once upon a time.<br/>-----------------------------------<br/>Abby and Marcus come back into each other's lives after years apart. Modern (post break-up) AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where Disappointment and Regret Collide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "Title and Registration" by Death Cab For Cutie.

Marcus stared at the stoplight, wondering if it was too late to turn back. There was unpleasant tightness in the center of his chest that he recognized as nervousness tinged with dread.

It was an unfamiliar feeling.

“Are you ok?”

Octavia’s worried voice broke into his thoughts.

He glanced back at her in the rear view mirror, a genuine look of concern in her eyes that she tried to mask with youthful disregard.

He attempted a small smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“Probably because the light’s been green for a good minute and we’re still waiting here.” Bellamy commented dryly next to him.

He blinked rapidly, suddenly taking in the green light above him.

“Oh. Sorry.” He urged the car forward, glad that there hadn’t been anyone behind him.

The car was quiet for a moment; the only sound was the tapping of Marcus’s fingers against the steering wheel. He glanced in the rearview mirror to change lanes and caught Octavia mouthing a rather insistent looking request to Bellamy. He caught her eye and raised an eyebrow at her before he heard Bellamy clear his throat in the passenger seat.

“So, are you sure everything’s ok, coach? You’ve seemed distracted this past week.”

He glanced over at Bellamy with a raised eyebrow.

“How so?”

“Well, for one thing, you haven’t even mentioned the fact that I got after school detention the other day with Ms. Sydney,” Octavia offered from the backseat of the car. “And I know that you know about it.”

He cleared his throat and resisted the urge to chew on his lip. He had meant to talk to Octavia about it, but other things had crowded it out of his mind.

He peered at Octavia in the rearview mirror and frowned.

“I certainly did hear about it.” He paused for a moment. “But it’s your first since the start of your junior year, which I consider a small victory. Also, I just assumed that your brother would talk to you about it.”

Bellamy shot him a confused look. 

“Of course I talked to her about it but…”

“…that’s never stopped you before.” Octavia finished up.

His lips quirked up in a smile.

“Also, the other day you asked me how my biology class was going.” Bellamy continued.

“What’s strange about that?” He replied.

“I’m taking anthropology.”

Octavia’s laugh rang out in the car while Marcus looked ruefully over at Bellamy.

“Honest mistake.”

Bellamy shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess.” He turned in his seat to face Marcus more fully. “Except that you’ve known every class that I’ve taken since I had you in middle school.”

“And you’re the one who suggested he take anthro instead of bio in the first place.” Octavia added.

Marcus nodded reluctantly. He had felt off for a few days, but thought he’d managed to hide it well. Apparently he’d been mistaken.

Even after all these years, Abby Griffin still made her presence known.

He tapped his fingers idly against the steering wheel, wondering how to answer the question brought up by the two siblings. Part of him wanted to breeze past it; it was embarrassingly personal, not to mention wholly confusing. Octavia would remain insistently curious, but Bellamy would respect his need for privacy even if he was probably equally as curious. Still, the Blakes had let him into their lives and they both seemed genuinely worried about him. It felt wrong to shut them out of his own to save a little face.

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

“You know that I’m Wells godfather, right?” 

Bellamy looked confused at the change in subject, while Octavia just seemed impatient.

“I didn’t,” Bellamy said after a moment, “but it makes sense.”

“I mean, we know you and Jaha grew up together.” Octavia pointed out. “Same small town, same college. You guys even work at the same school now.”

Marcus nodded. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, wondering how to continue, when Octavia broke into his thoughts and inadvertently broached the subject for him.

“Hey, if you’re Wells’s godfather, who’s his godmother?”

He took a small intake of breath and attempted to say her name as casually as possible.

“Abby Griffin.”

“Who’s that?” Bellamy said at the same time that Octavia asked -

“How do you know her?”

Marcus would have chuckled at her question, if he hadn’t been at such a loss at how to answer it. Either he hadn’t managed to say Abby’s name as casually as he had hoped, or Octavia was a lot more perceptive than he gave her credit for.

It was probably somewhere between both.

He flicked his eyes over to Bellamy.

“She grew up with Thelonious and me. We all went to the same schools up through high school and then ended up going to the same college for undergrad.” He paused for a moment, trying to decide what else to add. “She and Thelonious ended up living in the same state for a while after college and stayed close. She was even at the hospital when Wells was born.”

“So you guys didn’t stay close after college.” Octavia noted, then cocked her head slightly. “But you were close before that?”

Marcus stared straight ahead and nodded.

“We were,” he hesitated for a moment, then continued on. “We were together for a while.”

He almost flinched as he said it. He had meant the words to be casual, but instead they felt cruel; an incomplete meanness to them that hid all that he and Abby had been to one another, once upon a time.

“A while meaning…?” Octavia wheedled as she leaned closer, her elbows resting on the armrest between him and Bellamy.

“Five and a half years. We were together most of my undergrad and my first half of law school.”

Octavia poked him in the shoulder.

“That’s a long while. Did you guys think about getting married?”

Marcus shifted in his seat. Bellamy cleared his throat and looked over at him, obviously noticing his discomfort.

“We don’t need a primer on your college love life, coach.” He said the last bit to Marcus but stared pointedly at Octavia as he said it. She simply huffed and sat back in her seat.

“Buckle your seatbelt back up, please.” Marcus said to her. She complied and raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“We were young.” He finally said in reply to her query.

“Not an answer to my question.” Octavia said pointedly.

“Octavia,” Bellamy chided, “if he doesn’t wanna talk about it, he doesn’t have to.”

She rolled her eyes.

“C’’mon Bell, don’t act like you aren’t curious.” She looked over at Marcus. “You know all of the crazy shit - sorry - stuff in our past but we know absolutely nothing about yours. It’s like you hide all of that away from us.”

“There’s really not that much to say about it.”

HIs last words came out sharper than he had meant them to. A look of hurt flashed quickly across Octavia’s face.

“Anyway,” he continued in a softer tone, “I’m not sure how much you’d want to know about your brother’s coach and history teacher.”

She looked at him with an open sort of vulnerability.

“You know that you aren’t just Bell’s coach or history teacher.”

Bellamy shifted in the passenger seat, glancing at him with a deeply serious look on his face. “And honestly, you haven’t even been either of those things to me for a good three and a half years.”

He nodded and looked over at both siblings with a soft smile on his face.

“I’m just not very proud of a lot in my life before I decided to be a teacher.” He admitted quietly.

Bellamy furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Weren’t you some hotshot attorney before you became a teacher?”

He was saved from answering by an impatient huff from Octavia.

“Bell, seriously, who cares about that right now.”

“Yeah, by all means, keep grilling Kane about his college love life, because that isn’t bizarre at all.” Bellamy shot back.

Marcus laughed.

“It was a long time ago.” He said it as though it was all behind him. As though Abby Griffin was just as he said: someone he had been with for a while and forgotten; or else, someone who he had left behind; someone whose very memory had faded at the edges.

He wondered who he was trying to prove it to.

“When was the last time you saw her?” Octavia asked.

He thought for a moment. 

“She came to my mother’s funeral, which was a few years after…everything.” He paused. “It didn’t go well.”

It had been an unmitigated disaster and he had been a complete and utter asshole. He didn’t bother to mention that, though; there were limits to his honesty and openness tonight.

“So that was the last time?” Bellamy followed up.

He shook his head slowly. “When her husband died a few years ago, I went to the funeral.” He ran a hand through his hair distractedly. Then, quietly, as if only to himself: “She didn’t see me then, though.”

He felt, rather than saw, Bellamy glance back at Octavia.

“Wait,” Bellamy began after a quiet moment, “if she’s such good friends with Jaha and is Wells’ godmother, how come we’ve never met her?”

“She got a job out of state right out of med school.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “But she recently moved back.”

“Like, how recently?” Octavia demanded.

“A week ago.”

“Have you seen her?” Bellamy asked.

He shook his head, then exhaled sharply. He figured that now was as good a time as any.

“She’s going to be there tonight.”

He saw Octavia straighten up sharply in the backseat, heard Bellamy shift forward and turn to him.

“She’s going to be there?” Octavia said with a slight air of excitement. “At Wells’s party?”

He nodded.

“So we’re going to see her? You’re going to see her? For the first time in whatever many years?”

He nodded again.

She leaned forward once more and peered at him closely.

“You’re scared.”

He shook his head.

“Nervous.” Bellamy offered.

He hesitated for a moment, then shook his head again. 

Octavia looked at him skeptically.

“So Abby Griffin moving back into the state this last week has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you’ve also been weird for the past week.”

“That is correct.”

“And it has nothing to do with the fact that you missed the turnoff to Jaha’s house five miles back even though we’ve been to his house at least a hundred times this year alone.” Bellamy added wryly.

Marcus looked up at the street signs and realized that he had indeed missed the exit to the Jaha’s. He laughed sheepishly.

“Ok, I might be slightly apprehensive.” 

Bellamy laughed. Octavia sat back in her seat, a satisfied smirk on her face.


	2. First impressions, a second time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You make me crazy, he’d once told Abby, when he was young and she still smiled at him.  
> Somebody needs to, had been her reply. You’re way too rational all the time.

The remaining car ride to the party was quiet, though he was slightly suspicious that the Blake siblings were in fact furiously texting one another rather than speaking out loud. He didn’t dwell on it too heavily, choosing instead to focus on the tension that was currently coiling in the pit of his stomach.

Or rather, to focus on a way to get rid of it. 

He clenched his fists tightly around the steering wheel and exhaled slowly. He’d tried for weeks (years, if he was really going to be honest with himself) to focus on the complete absurdity of his emotions in the hopes of extinguishing them, or, at the very least, paring them down into something rational. 

(You make me crazy, he’d once told Abby, when he was young and she still smiled at him.  
Somebody needs to, had been her reply. You’re way too rational all the time.) 

The rational side of his brain tried to point out that she hadn’t been his first love, or his last love, or even the woman he’d been with the longest. Tried to get him to believe that she was just someone he had loved for a while, a long time ago now. 

But that rational side of him now quickly lost to the softer, more unpredictable parts of himself. The side of himself that had kept all of Abby’s old letters. That still asked Thelonious about her in a quiet moment now and again. That thought to call her the moment he walked away from his corner office and all the accolades his law degree had netted him. 

Now, he simply tried to tell himself that his apprehension centered around the fact that it had been nearly twenty years since he and Abby had been able to stand in a room together without it devolving into a shouting match. Tried to pretend that the low simmer of excitement in his veins didn't come from the prospect of seeing Abby Griffin again in person for the first time in over five years. 

Ten minutes later, he had almost managed to convince himself that what he thought was true. 

(That was the problem with having once been an attorney: it was all too easy to see around the technicalities and half-truths.) 

He parked the car and got out slowly, making sure to smooth down the hair that had had a hand run through it in frustration far too often on the ride over. 

“Ready?” He called over to Bellamy and Octavia, who were gathering their birthday gifts to Wells from the car.

Bellamy nodded and turned towards the house. 

Octavia waited for Marcus to come over to the opposite side of the car and began walking towards the party at his side. 

“Are you ready?” She asked teasingly. 

He saw Bellamy smirk out of the corner of his vision and just barely fought off the sudden urge to roll his eyes at them both. 

He walked to the front door calmly, flanked on either side by Bellamy and Octavia; only the insistent tap of his fingertips against his side betraying the tangle of his nerves. 

He knocked on the door and smiled broadly at Thelonious when he opened it. 

“Hey, sorry we’re a little late.” 

Thelonious reached over to shake his hand and said hello to the Blake siblings as he ushered the three of them inside. 

“No problem. Although, I was a little worried.” He glanced at Marcus. “I don’t think you’ve ever been late to anything in your entire life.” 

“We got lost on the way to your house, sir,” Bellamy explained with a small smirk on his face. “Coach has a few things on his mind.” 

“Well, just one thing, really.” Octavia countered blithely. 

Marcus turned around and glared at both the siblings. Bellamy simply shrugged and grinned back at him, while Octavia pointedly ignored him and looked down the hallway.

“So,” she said casually, “is Abby Griffin here yet?” 

Thelonious blinked down at her, a look of surprise on his face. He glanced over at Marcus, who suddenly had an enormous amount of difficulty meeting his eyes, and then over at Bellamy, who was having trouble biting back a smile. 

He looked back down at Octavia, who was smiling up at him innocently.

Realization dawned on him. He threw his head back and laughed. 

Marcus shot him a dirty look. “Et tu, Thelonious?”

Thelonious clapped him on the back and looked over at Octavia. 

“Everyone’s outside. I was actually on my way out to the store to get more ice, but you guys know where everything is. I’ll be back in five minutes.” He looked sternly at Marcus. “Try not to get a shoe thrown at you in that amount of time.” 

“One time,” Marcus muttered darkly, throwing off Thelonious grip. 

Thelonious chuckled and met Octavia’s look of insistent curiosity with a grin. 

“I’ll tell you about it later.” He said in a stage whisper before grabbing his keys and rushing out the door. 

Octavia ignored the cool look on Marcus’s face and grabbed his arm, pushing him towards the back door. 

“So, what does she look like?” 

He ran his hand through his hair as he pondered an answer. 

Whatever reply he was going to come up with was lost as the back screen door swung open and a familiar brunette stepped through. 

“Thelo -” She called out, then stopped when she saw the three of them in front of her. He saw her eyes widen slightly in surprise at the sight of him.

He was grateful for the sound of music and indistinct chatter that drifted through the screen door and filled the quiet hallway, otherwise he was sure that the hall instead would've been filled with the sound of his wildly beating heart. He breathed in sharply and attempted to school his face into something that at least approached casual. 

“I’m guessing she looks like that,” he heard Bellamy rumble quietly, loud enough for only him and Octavia to hear. 

“Marcus.” 

He exhaled slowly, slightly overwhelmed by the sound of his name coming from her. In the last few years before they’d stopped speaking entirely, she’d only referred to him by his last name. As though they were soldiers calling out to one another in line, rather than two people who had once shared a life together. 

Her voice was lower than he remembered, but filled with a slight warmth that hadn’t been directed towards him in years. 

A warmth he hadn’t realized he’d missed until that very moment. 

“Abby.” His voice quieter and more gravelly than he’d intended. 

Suddenly, the screen door banged behind Abby, jarring him out of the moment. 

“Mom!” A blond girl about the age of the Octavia called out, looking towards the kitchen before she bumped into Abby in front of her. 

“Mom, did you get the i - oh.” She looked past Abby and met Marcus’s eyes with a puzzled tilt of her head before she looked past him at Bellamy and Octavia. 

Abby looked over at the girl apologetically. 

“Sorry honey, I didn’t get the ice.” She looked up at Marcus. “I ran into an old friend.” She cleared her throat and put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “Clarke, this is Marcus Kane. He grew up with Thelonious and me.” 

Clarke smiled at him as she held out her hand. 

“Oh, yeah. You’re Wells’s godfather, right? And his basketball coach?” 

He smiled and shook her hand. 

“And his history professor. It’s nice to meet you, Clarke.” 

“You too. And I guess you’ll soon be my history professor, too.” 

Octavia cleared her throat behind him and nudged her way past him, shooting him an unimpressed look as she passed. 

“Hi, I’m Octavia and that’s my brother, Bellamy.” She said, motioning over to Bellamy who held out his hand to both Clarke and Abby. “I go to school with Wells.” 

“Oh wow, I know how rough that can be,” Clarke said sympathetically as she motioned towards Marcus, “having to go to the same school that your dad teaches at is rough.” 

“Tell me about it,” Octavia responded with an affectionate roll of her eyes to Marcus, at the same time he said - 

“Oh, I’m not her dad.” 

Clarke’s expression of amusement quickly morphed into confusion tinged with embarrassment. She put up her hands in front of her. 

“Oh - sorry. I just thought because you guys all came here together that -. “

“Yeah, no, totally understandable.” Octavia broke in, reassuring her. “I mean, he is the one that all the teachers talk to every time that I get in trouble, so...yeah.” 

“He pretty much is in all the ways that matter,” Bellamy assured her, “except for the legal ones, I guess.”

“Basically - don’t worry about it,” Octavia continued, waving her hand as though to dispel any residual awkwardness in the room. 

“Anyway,” she pointed to Clarke and Abby, “Jaha ran out to get ice a few minutes ago and should be back soon.” She grabbed Bellamy and nudged Clarke towards the door . “Let’s go outside, say happy birthday to Wells, and mingle.” 

The three of them headed out the door, leaving Abby and Marcus alone together in the hallway.

Abby’s gaze followed them out before she turned and looked at Marcus with amusement in her eyes. 

“She seems like she’d keep you on your toes.” 

He smiled.

“She certainly does.” 

They were both quiet for a moment before Abby stepped closer to him. She hesitated briefly, then reached out towards him. For a quick moment he thought she was going to grab his hand, but her fingers wrapped around his wrist instead.

“It's good to see you again, Marcus.” She squeezed his arm lightly before letting go.

His hand twitched at his side at the unexpected contact. His heart jumped at the unexpected depth of sincerity in her voice. He worked to keep his words steady and even.

“It's good to see you too, Abby.”


	3. A good man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s nice to be back here,” she remarked after a quiet moment. “I missed all the sunshine.”
> 
> He looked at her thoughtfully. “I did always have a hard time imagining you having to deal with all that snow.”
> 
> She looked at him intently for a moment and he forced himself to meet her gaze as he took a drink. The phrase was easy enough, but it had slipped out unexpectedly; admitting that he had thought about her in the years that she’d been away made him feel strangely embarrassed and exposed.

He turned into the kitchen and found Abby staring into the fridge with obvious consternation.

“Everything ok?” He asked hesitantly.

She turned towards him and motioned towards the fridge.

“I asked Thelonious for ginger ale and he told me it was in the fridge with the rest of the drinks. Except that the fridge has no drinks in it, ginger ale or otherwise.”

He nodded and walked over to the pantry behind her.

“Thelonious keeps all the drinks in the fridge in here,” he said as he opened the door and grabbed a bottle of ginger ale and a can of sprite. He handed the bottle to her, opened his sprite, and continued to the cabinet door to her right.

“The bottle opener is in that drawer to your left,” he said as he reached into the cabinet and pulled out a small bottle of vanilla extract. He set it down next to her and leaned back against the counter.

She tilted her head at him as a look of surprise flickered across her face.

He shifted nervously.

“I just thought you might want to put it in your ginger ale.” He said haltingly. “You used to - before.”

She nodded and picked up the vanilla with a soft smile on her face, not quite meeting his eye.

“I still do.” She tipped the bottle into her drink and set it down again before looking up to study him carefully. “I just didn’t think you’d remember.”

He hesitated for a moment, then grinned crookedly at her.

“Well, you tend not to forget things like that after someone bursts into angry tears at the fact that you came home from grocery shopping without the vanilla for their ginger ale.”

She spluttered into her drink and swallowed it down forcefully before meeting his eyes with an incredulous look on her face.

“I don’t remember this!” She insisted, though there was playful gleam in her eyes.

He smiled at her and folded his arms across his chest.

“To be fair, you were two weeks away from taking the MCATs, so you were a little insane.”

She tipped her head back as she laughed. He smiled back at her, relieved that bringing up the past didn’t sting like it once had.

“That whole month leading up to it is just a big haze in my mind, now.” She admitted. She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “What’s strange about that story, though, is that I basically remember you being nothing but incredibly supportive the whole time.”

“I was pretty alright.” He paused and took a sip of his drink before shooting her a wry grin. “For a while, at least.”

She smiled at him, close lipped but soft.

“We were so young.” She finally said as she shook her head and huffed a laugh. “We used to fight over the stupidest things.”

He nodded.

“At least we’ve learned.” He looked at his watch. “It’s been almost an hour and not a single shoe has been thrown.”

An abashed look crept over her face.

“That was - “ She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have done that,” she admitted apologetically.

He shrugged good naturedly at her.

“We were young,” he said, echoing her words back to her. “Plus, time has proven you right: I deserved it.”

She chuckled, then took a long drink of ginger ale. He rocked back on his heels and took a moment to consider their conversation. Ten years ago he couldn’t have imagined having a conversation with Abby that didn’t have bitterness coated over every single word.

Perhaps this is what happened for everyone, eventually. All the hurts and slights of the past eventually blurred out and softened, until they were just lighthearted stories you exchanged with one another in someone’s kitchen.

Or perhaps he and Abby had just known each other so long, meant too much to each other, to ever let hate be the last defining stamp on their relationship.

(He buried the third option in the darkest corner of his mind: that even after the years of enmity, even after the separation in distance and time, there might still be a low glowing ember of tenderness underneath everything after all.)

“It’s nice to be back here,” she remarked after a quiet moment. “I missed all the sunshine.”

He looked at her thoughtfully. “I did always have a hard time imagining you having to deal with all that snow.”

She looked at him intently for a moment and he forced himself to meet her gaze as he took a drink. The phrase was easy enough, but it had slipped out unexpectedly; admitting that he had thought about her in the years that she’d been away made him feel strangely embarrassed and exposed.

She cleared her throat and gave him a small smile.

“I threw away my ice scraper before we left. I can’t tell you how good that felt.”

“I can imagine.” He took a small sip. “How’s the move-in process going?”

“I’ll let you know once it gets started,” she responded dryly. “The moving company’s going to be late. They said they’d be here at the beginning of this week, but now they’re telling me they won’t show up for another three weeks at least. So, Clarke and I are stuck without any furniture and only the clothes we packed in our car.”

He frowned, then leaned forward conspiratorially with a glint of humor in his eyes. “You know, I’m still a barred attorney. I can sue the company, if you want.”

Abby chuckled.

“I’ll consider it.” She hesitated for a moment, then added, “I could use some help moving furniture around though. Once it gets here, I mean.”  
  
He tried to mask the look of surprise that washed over him with a self-effacing grin.

“I’m not good at much, but moving furniture I can do.”

“I’m sure your adoring students would disagree.” She laughed at his snort of disbelief.

“I wouldn’t call them adoring.”

“Really? Because Thelonious has always said that you’re the most highly requested teacher by both parents and students.”

He shrugged and took a drink of his sprite, though inwardly he felt warmed by her words.

She tilted her head to the side and gave him an appraising look.

“And you seem to have done a pretty good job with Bellamy and Octavia.”

He shook his head.

“I didn’t really do much there. They’re great kids.” He paused and gave her a diffident smile. “The only thing I really did was stick around.”

She smiled softly at him.

“Sometimes, that’s exactly what people need.” She looked at him closely before continuing. “You’re a good man, Marcus.”

He looked down and cleared his throat before glancing back up at her.

“I’m trying to be.”

She shook her head.

“You always were. I always believed that.” She paused and her eyes turned inward at some unknown memory. After a moment, she looked at him thoughtfully. “There were just times where I wasn’t sure if you believed it.”

He looked at her searchingly, wondering how he ever could’ve believed that he hated her. All he could come up with was the same phrase he and Abby had repeated to one another: they’d just been so young.

(And stupid, a voice that sounded startlingly similar to Octavia’s huffed in the back of his mind. He couldn’t disagree with it.)  
  
The silence that had settled between the two of them was broken suddenly when they heard the heavy knock of footsteps coming towards the kitchen.

“Kane,” he heard Octavia call out in an exasperated tone. She wheeled into the kitchen and stopped short when she saw him and Abby standing across from one another.

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you two.” Her voice was apologetic but the expression on her face was nothing short of gleeful.

Abby smiled at her.

“No problem, Octavia. Just two old friends catching up.”

Marcus stared pointedly at Octavia as he nodded, then turned to Abby.

“I was sent in to get supplies for s’mores. Apparently I didn’t get them fast enough for certain people.”

Octavia waved a hand dismissively and grinned at him before she turned around to leave the kitchen.

“Take your time.” She called out over her shoulder. “The fire’s still going strong.”

Marcus watched her go, then turned back to Abby, who was smiling at him.

“S’mores, huh? I could definitely go for some.”

“Great, then you can help me get all the supplies. It’ll probably take the both of us to carry them out.”

She raised her eyebrow.

“It’s going to take two of us to carry out a bunch of skewer sticks, marshmallows, and chocolate?” She asked skeptically.

He gave an imperious scoff before grinning over at her.

“That’s for amateurs. We take s’mores seriously around here.” He walked over to the fridge and took out a bowl of strawberries, then grabbed a bunch of bananas sitting on the counter.

“Here, slice those up for me thinly please and I’ll get the rest of the stuff.”

She gave him a puzzled look before she nodded and began slicing the fruit.

He rummaged around the kitchen and loaded up a bag with nutella, peanut butter, cookie butter, and dulce de leche spread. He added a bag of Ghiradelli chocolates, oreos, and chocolate cookies to it before he peered once more in the fridge. He moved around various containers and let out a triumphant sound when he found what he was looking for.

He closed the fridge door and found Abby staring at him with confused enjoyment.

He held up a sandwich bag filled with slices of bacon.

She narrowed her eyes and shot him a dubious look. “For s’mores, Marcus?”

“I promise you, with the right combination, it’s downright heavenly.”

Her lips quirked with amusement and she nodded. They gathered up all of the supplies - which did end up taking two of them - and headed outside. Marcus cleared the bar counter outside and called over to the party goers.

“S’mores bar will be set up in about ten minutes.”

Octavia and Wells whooped, while Bellamy and a few others clapped.

Marcus began setting up the different fixings, directing Abby as to where everything needed to go. When everything was set up, he glanced over to the kids sitting around the campfire and whistled loudly.

“All set!”

He pulled Abby back a bit as the teens all rushed over, Octavia giving suggestions as to the best combinations and Bellamy handing graham crackers with perfectly even amounts of various spreads on them. Before she returned to the firepit, Marcus pulled Octavia aside and quietly spoke to her for a moment. Abby couldn’t hear what the two of them were saying, but she did see Octavia smile brightly up at Marcus and nod her head.

A few minutes later, Octavia came up to the two of them holding two s’mores in her hand.

She handed one to Marcus, who thanked her, and then handed another to Abby.

“I know the bacon thing seems weird, but it’s surprisingly awesome.” She smiled at Abby, then glanced at Marcus. “It’s one of Kane’s favorites.”

Abby looked down at the s’more skeptically, then glanced at Octavia and smiled.

“Thank you, Octavia.”

Octavia nodded and grinned at them once more before flouncing away.

Abby turned to Marcus, a doubtful expression on her face.

“This isn’t a practical joke or anything, right?”

He chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s a salty caramel bacon s’more and it’ll change the way you think about s’mores.”

She nodded and then gingerly took a bite out of her s’more. She chewed thoughtfully, then looked over at Marcus with an expression of delighted surprise.

“Ok, that is really delicious.”

He grinned at her triumphantly, raising his hands above his head in victory.

She knocked her shoulder into him, but there was a smile on her face as she did it.

“How’d you even know to do all this stuff? Are you just making s’mores in your off time?”

He laughed and shook his head.

“A few years ago Octavia really wanted a s’mores bar for one of her birthdays. I looked up a bunch of different combinations and we taste tested them together for weeks leading up to it. Her friends and their moms couldn’t stop talking about it for weeks.” He glanced over to where Octavia was sitting by fire pit. She caught his eye and raised her eyebrows, waving at him before turning back to her conversation. He turned back to Abby. “So now I am the designated s’mores expert.”

Abby’s gaze had softened into something warm and affectionate.

“How old was she?”

“She was turning thirteen that year, so it was a big deal for her. Bellamy had just become her guardian, but he was also just starting his first year of college and was having kind of a hard time adjusting. So I just tried to help out where I could.” He laughed quietly and shook his head. “I was terrified that I’d screw up her birthday somehow. But afterwards, she hugged me and said it was the best birthday she’d ever had.” He cleared his throat and looked down at the ground for a moment, embarrassed at the rise of emotion that had crawled up his throat.

Abby smiled gently up at him, reaching out to place her hand on his shoulder. She squeezed it lightly and waited for him to glance up at her.

“See?” She murmured quietly. “You’ve always been a good man.”

The way she was looking at him now, he could almost believe it.

* * *

 

He waved goodbye to Thelonious from the car and drove slowly back towards the freeway.

“So,” Octavia said forcefully in the passenger seat next to him.

He glanced over at her.

“So.” He replied.

He could almost feel her rolling her eyes from his seat.

“So, what was going on with you and Abby at the party?”

He kept his eyes focused on the road in front of him.

“Nothing,” he finally said, “just two old friends catching up.”

Octavia let out an undignified snort while Bellamy chuckled in the backseat.

He shook his head and glanced at both of them with an exasperated expression.

“Don’t read too much into things, guys.”

“Well, what do you expect?” Octavia asked. “You two looked pretty cozy when I walked in on you two in the kitchen. And then, when you guys were setting up the s’mores buffet, she was literally looking at you with heart eyes.”

“What...what does that even mean?”

She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and typed into the screen before holding it up to him. He glanced over at it before returning his eyes to the road.

“She was like a real life version of that emoji, I swear,” Octavia insisted.

He shrugged noncommittally, keeping his eyes focused on the road. He heard Bellamy clear his throat in the backseat.

“So, are you going to see her again soon?” He inquired, so nonchalantly that Marcus might almost believe he was only asking to make conversation. Marcus looked back in rearview mirror and saw Bellamy leaning forward, watched as he glanced over at Octavia and gave an unsubtle thumbs up.

Marcus might have been irritated, if the whole thing hadn’t also been somewhat touching. There was something rather considerate and sweet about the Blake siblings interest in his personal life. The added fact that the party tonight had, in fact, gone well also served to lighten his mood.

He cleared his throat and returned his eyes to the road.

“I’m going to help her move her furniture when it gets here.” He stated calmly.

“That’s so you,” Octavia declared with a roll of her eyes, at the same time that Bellamy asked, “When is that?”

He furrowed his eyebrows before he answered Bellamy first.

“It’s supposed to be here in about three weeks. She’s going to call me as soon as the moving company gives her an exact date.”

He glanced over at Octavia.

“And what do you mean that’s so me?”

“I mean,” she smirked, “that you would offer to do something practical rather than something romantic. But you did manage to get her number, so looks like you’ve got more game than I gave you credit for.”

Bellamy laughed out loud while Octavia leaned back in her seat with a self-satisfied grin.

He glared at both of them in turn before shaking his head.

“I’m not trying to be romantic. I’m just trying to be helpful. I’m trying to be a good friend.”

Octavia leaned forward and poked him sharply in the arm.

“And that’s what you’re interested in, friendship?”

He was quiet for a moment as he turned the question over in his mind.

“I’m not sure it really matters what I’m interested in,” he said quietly. “She burned that bridge a long time ago.”  
He felt Octavia rest a hand gently on his arm. He glanced over at her, found her looking at him with a delicate expression on her face.

“I don’t think she did, Kane.” She nodded at him. “Not from where I was standing.”


	4. Moving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What was it, then? This look of hers.” He asked, trying to pass off his tone as casual.
> 
> Bellamy crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels slightly, a thoughtful look coming over his face.
> 
> “Like you were an old, favorite song that she had forgotten the words to, but wanted to listen to over and over again until she remembered them.”

Marcus stood in the front hallway of Abby’s house and tried to bury the slow feeling of anxiety creeping over him.  


Although it was by no means a novel desire, he suddenly found himself desperately wishing he really were Octavia’s legal guardian. 

If only so he could ground her for putting him in this specific situation. 

* * *

_ Three nights ago _

_ “ _ So, Clarke Griffin’s joining the soccer team.” 

Marcus looked up from his place at the stove over to where Octavia was prepping the salad and raised his eyebrow at her warily before smiling at her. 

“That's wonderful. I'm glad for the team.” 

“Yeah, she’s played club for six years, so I’m actually really excited about it. I’m going to see what she looks like at conditioning and then see if she wants to also join the Spartans. I assume if she played club ball back east, she can play it here. But I just wanna make sure.” She shot him a grin. “But, that also means one other important thing. Do you know what that is?” 

“I don’t, but it seems highly likely that you’ll tell me.” 

“That means that Abby Griffin will likely be at all my games.” She set down the tomatoes she was cutting on the counter and walked over to him, poking him in the bicep to emphasize her point. “Where you will also be.” 

He continued to look down at the sauce that he was stirring and nodded his head, not meeting Octavia’s eye. 

“That’s...great. It’s good to be supportive in your child’s endeavors so...great. That’s really...great.” 

He heard Bellamy snicker behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a grin on Octavia’s face that could only be described as one of the shit eating variety. 

He sighed and turned the stove on low before turning around and crossing his arms. He tried to school his face into an unimpressed expression, but only got as far as being vaguely chagrined. 

“So, how long are we going to keep on bringing up Abby’s name into every single conversation?” 

“Until you make a move!” Octavia cried out, exasperated, at the same time that Bellamy shrugged and said, “Until it stops being funny.” 

Octavia looked over at her brother and grinned. 

“Well, that too.” She returned his frown  with a nudge to his ribs. “Every time we say her name, you suddenly get all shifty eyed and stammery.” She laughed as the frown turned into an outright scowl. “God, if only the kids at school could see you. So much for having ice in your veins.” 

He huffed a small laugh at her gentle ribbing before exhaling sharply and clearing his throat. 

“I am headed over there this weekend,” he held up a hand to stop Octavia’s eventual interruption, “to help move furniture. But no moves will be made.” 

Octavia threw up her hands in frustration. 

He raised an eyebrow at her before continuing. “I’m not even sure there are any moves to make. We had something a long, long time ago.” He motioned over to Bellamy. “I mean, we were about your age when we got together. I think the only thing to really hope for at this point is some form of friendship.” 

A small flicker of apology flitted over Bellamy’s face, while Octavia just stared at him unrelentingly. 

“There’s still something there.” She insisted. “You didn’t see the way she looked at you at the party.” 

“Yes, I understand. Heart eyes emoji.” 

“No,” Bellamy broke in, “it was more than that.”

Marcus turned and looked at him, surprised. The past few weeks had mostly been Octavia leading the charge to talk about Abby, with Bellamy mostly hanging back and laughing at Octavia’s general antics, joining the conversation only to add in a well-timed tease or to gently pull Octavia back when Marcus started to get too uncomfortable or exasperated. 

“What was it, then? This look of hers.” He asked, trying to pass off his tone as casual. 

Bellamy crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels slightly, a thoughtful look coming over his face. 

“Like you were an old, favorite song that she had forgotten the words to, but wanted to listen to over and over again until she remembered them.” 

Marcus was silent for a moment, unsure of how to reply to Bellamy’s description. Octavia gave a low whistle.

“Damn, Bell. Guess that throwaway poetry class last semester wasn’t a complete waste of your time after all.” 

Bellamy coughed a laugh and looked away for a moment, slightly embarrassed, before turning back to face Marcus. 

“I mean, heart eyes emoji is just as accurate of a description, really. I just wanted you to know that it wasn’t just Octavia who saw something that night.” 

Marcus looked at him closely, trying to measure the weight of his words, wondering if Bellamy was merely trying to appease his younger sister. But, no, there was sincerity written all over Bellamy’s expression. It was one of the things that Marcus had first noticed about Bellamy as a young, quiet student sitting in the back of his class - the boy couldn’t lie to save his life. 

“You’re going to be at Abby Griffin’s house, alone, and you’re not going to make any moves?” Octavia finally asked, a look of pure incredulity on her face. 

He turned to her. 

“We’re not going to be alone. Clarke’s going to be there. Thelonious and Wells would’ve probably come, too, if they weren’t scoping out colleges this coming weekend.” He shrugged and motioned to the two of them. “That’s why I asked you two earlier what you were doing this weekend - see if you could help out.” 

Octavia grinned. “Good thing we are both honestly and conveniently busy. That way you and Abby can have some time alone to unpack boxes and reminisce about when you were young and in love.” 

He sighed wearily. “Like I said, we won’t be alone. Clarke will be there, too.” 

She nodded at him, eyes wide with sincerity. “Of course.” She briefly looked like she was biting back a smirk, before she turned back towards the salad she had been prepping. “You almost done with the pasta? I’m hungry.”

* * *

 

He should’ve known that Octavia had something brewing in her mind by the way that she dropped the topic so quickly. He had just been so relieved to have the spotlight off of him and Abby that he’d gladly let it go.

He rubbed his sweaty palms on the top of his jeans before continuing after Abby, stopping in the doorway of the living room and waiting until Abby turned around to face him. 

“So, Clarke’s at soccer with Octavia?” 

She nodded. 

“Yeah, she said that Octavia invited her to come check out her club team - Spartans, right?” 

Marcus nodded and sighed inwardly. 

“This was, what, two days ago that Octavia asked Clarke to see the Spartans?” 

“Yeah, how’d you know?” 

“Oh - Octavia mentioned that she was going to see if Clarke was interested, but I didn’t realize she had actually asked.” 

“Well, thank Octavia for me. Clarke was ecstatic.” She looked at Marcus apologetically. “Sorry we won’t have the extra help today, though. I just already feel bad enough that I took my daughter away from her life her senior year of high school. I figured I should let her beg off a day of unpacking boxes and moving furniture.” 

“Completely understandable.” He smiled at her. “I’m sure we’ll be able to handle it on our own. Looks like the movers did most of the hard work anyway.”

“Yeah, everything’s in the general vicinity of where it needs to be. I didn’t want to get too particular with the placement of stuff since those guys get paid hourly. I figured you and I could shift things a few feet to the left or right without any trouble.” 

He nodded. 

“So, where do you wanna start?” 

She looked around the room, a mess of half opened boxes and plastic wrapped furniture. She pointed at a sectional at the far end of the room. 

“I think I want to switch the sectional and the couch. Seems like it’d be better to have the couch under the window, rather than the sectional.” 

He nodded in agreement and motioned over to the tv. 

“That would make the most sense if you end up moving the tv to the the middle rather than where it is right now. That way most of the seating space would be directly across from it, rather than to the side. And having the sectional there breaks up the space well, so that the open flooring feels like two rooms rather than one open space.” 

She looked at him for a moment, stunned, before she broke out into laughter. He gave her a lopsided smile and rubbed his hand across the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Sorry - I didn’t mean to take over your moving plans.” 

She shook her head fervently, smiling broadly at him. 

“No, no - it’s great. You’re exactly right. It’s just -” she spread her hands out before her and shook her head, “it’s not what I was expecting. The last time you helped me move, I remember you arguing against having a couch at all.” 

He grinned. “To be fair, I  _ was _ advocating for a futon. For its -” 

“Dual purpose,” she finished up with a smile. “I remember.” 

They looked at each other for a moment. He was sure that she was thinking exactly the same thing that was on his mind - 

The last time he’d helped her move, they had been moving in together. 

He cleared his throat and turned away from her, walking slowly over to the sectional and lifting up one side of it. 

“Shall we?” 

* * *

“I think...we’re done.” Abby said, a slight hint of awe and surprise in her voice.

Marcus stretched his arms above his head as he surveyed the room around them. 

“I think you’re right.” He smiled at her. “Everything looks great.” 

“In no small part thanks to you.” She tilted her head and smiled at him softly. “Looks like you are good at more than just moving furniture.” She looked at him questioningly. “Actually, you really are pretty damn good at figuring out how a room should look. It’s...surprising.” 

He shrugged nonchalantly, though he could feel his cheeks warming up.

“I watch a lot of HGTV.” She shot him a look of amusement tinged with disbelief. He laughed. “I never used to watch it, but Octavia and Bellamy love it - for whatever reason. A few years ago, both of them got a bad case of the flu and were basically stuck in bed for almost two weeks. I took time off of work to take care of them and incidentally ended up watching a lot of home improvement shows with them. Ever since then, I’ll just turn it on if I want something to watch while I’m cooking or as background while I’m grading.” He crossed his arms and shrugged. “Guess I picked up a few things.” 

“I’ll be sure to thank those two the next time I see them.” A gentle look flickered across her face, but it was gone before he could study it too closely. He briefly wondered what Bellamy and Octavia might have to say about it. 

She cleared her throat and motioned towards the kitchen. “Do you want some water?” 

He nodded and they walked out of the living room. Abby grabbed two tall glasses from the cabinet and walked over to the water cooler in the corner of the kitchen. She filled the glass up three quarters of the way with cold water, then filled the cup the rest of the way with hot water. 

She looked up at him, a look of worry crossing over her face. 

“You still like room temperature water? I can always put ice in this.”

He smiled reassuringly at her and tried to contain the warmth that was currently working its way out from his chest. 

“I still do.” He reached out and took the cup from her, his fingers lightly brushing over hers. 

She tilted her head, a look of faint amusement in her eyes. 

“It was always strange to me that you asked for no ice in your water here because it’s so hot. But when we were living back east, I sometimes asked for water, no ice, on especially cold days.” She smiled wryly at him. “I do want to let you know that you were right - the ice does make the water taste different.” 

He threw his hand up in victory. “22 year old me is pleased to see that you finally admit the truth.” 

She laughed. 

“And what about 43 year old you?”

He smiled and looked down into his glass briefly before meeting her eye. 

“43 year old me is just happy to be able to share a glass of water with you.”


	5. In retrospect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He breathed out forcefully, tried to find the words to explain. “By the time everything ended, Abby had literally been in my life longer than any other person who wasn't directly responsible for bringing me into the world. I’d spent two decades believing that we’d always have one another - in some way.” He paused. “Then, one day, that just wasn’t the case any more.” 
> 
> He looked down and pushed around the food on his plate. It was somewhat discomfiting to put words to things that he hadn’t ever said out loud before; still, there was a sense of relief to it,too. 
> 
> “I didn’t take it well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No actual Kabby interaction in this chapter, but a lot of backstory building.

Bellamy had just finished setting the table when the doorbell rang. 

Marcus glanced up at the clock, surprised to see that Thelonious was actually on time - for once. 

“I got it!” Octavia called out, running over to the front door to let him in. She greeted him then looked behind him. “No Wells tonight?” 

Thelonious shook his head as he stepped into the house. 

“Student council responsibilities. But I did promise to bring him home some of Marcus’s famous sea salt and caramel brownies.” 

Bellamy scoffed loudly from the kitchen. 

“Good luck with that, sir. I can barely get my hands on a few before Octavia takes them all.” 

She grinned at both of them. 

“Hey, slow man dies around here.” 

Marcus brought over the pot of pasta from the stove and set it down in the middle of the table as the group settled down to eat. He sat back and watched Octavia and Bellamy fight over the appropriate amount of shrimp to pasta ratio, then looked over at Thelonious. 

“So, what’s the news with the athletics budget? Are we thinking that the board -” 

“Uh uh,” Octavia interjected loudly, “no work talk at the kitchen table, remember? House rules.” 

Thelonious smiled. 

“She’s right, Marcus. Anyway, I brought over all the budget materials so that we can talk about it after dinner.” He sighed and shook his head. “I really do hate board meetings.” 

“Yeah, they sound horrible.” Octavia added distractedly, then turned to Thelonious with a mischievous look on her face. “Anyway, since you’re here, maybe you can shed some light on a situation that Kane refuses to talk about.” 

Bellamy shot her a warning look that she pointedly ignored. Thelonious glanced over at Marcus, saw an expression come over him that was half chagrined, half defeated, and valiantly tried to cover up his own smile. 

“And what situation might that be?” He asked with feigned innocence. 

Bellamy shook his head, looked like he was close to rolling his eyes. 

“O, you’re not seriously going to ask your principal about Kane’s personal life?” 

She scoffed lightly. 

“He’s not my principal here, Bell. Here he’s just a family friend and purveyor of long held personal secrets.”

“Things that are secret for a reason, O.” Bellamy insisted. 

“Probably not any good reason, Bell.” Octavia shot back. 

“Guys, I am sitting right here.” Both siblings turned to look at Marcus. “And, like I said before, I’m not keeping anything a secret from you two.” 

“No, you just won’t freely discuss anything having to do with your shared history with Abby Griffin.” Octavia pointed out. 

He sighed. “It’s not important.” At Octavia’s unimpressed look, he uncrossed his arms and waved vaguely in front of him. “And...it’s complicated.” 

“It’s not.” Thelonious offered. At Marcus’s slightly indignant look, he simply shrugged. “It’s a long story, but it’s not a complicated one.”

He pursed his lips before nodding reluctantly. 

“So, what’s the deal?” Octavia quipped. “I even tried bringing it up with Clarke last weekend when you helped Abby move in, but she knew even less about you than we do about Abby.” 

Marcus shrugged. He briefly considered keeping it at that, but realized that even after nearly four weeks of general evasion, neither of the Blake’s curiosity seemed to be waning. At this point, it seemed pointless to try to keep them away from that part of his life any longer. 

“I'm really not gonna shake you two off of this, am I?” 

Bellamy tilted his head from side to side and lifted his shoulders, but Octavia grinned boldly back at him. 

“Not a chance.” 

He threw his hands up in defeat, then chuckled wearily. 

“Alright, we can talk about it until we’re done with dinner. Then, Thelonious and I have to go upstairs and work on our presentation for the board meeting. And I’m guessing the two of you have homework to finish.” 

Octavia sat back, satisfied. Bellamy leaned forward and set his elbows on the kitchen table.

Thelonious smiled at Marcus and looked over at the Blake siblings. 

“So, what is it the two of you want to know?”

Octavia and Bellamy looked at each other for a brief moment before Octavia leaned forward. 

“How long have you two known each other?” 

He took a deep breath. 

“Abby and I lived across the street from one another as kids. Our parents were good friends - we basically lived at each other's houses since pre-school. Even as we got older and our friend group expanded - Thelonious moved into the neighborhood in fourth grade, I think - it was always the two of us, together. Not like that -” he added in at Octavia’s wondering expression, “Abby and I were always close but just friends for a long while. My serious girlfriend in high school was actually one of her closest friends at the time.” 

“Oh yeah,” Thelonious added, “Callie Cartwig, right?” 

He nodded. 

“When did you and Abby get together?” Bellamy asked. 

“Towards the end of my sophomore year of college.” 

Thelonious chuckled. “Surprising basically no one.” He motioned over to Marcus. “People had been taking bets on when they’d get together since middle school. I, unfortunately, had a little too much faith in Marcus. Thought he’d get it together two years earlier than he actually did.” 

Bellamy laughed. “Who ended up winning that one?” 

He smirked. 

“My mom, actually. Said she knew it'd take us a while to finally figure it out.” His gaze took on a wistful look. “She always did really like Abby.” 

“And then you guys were together for almost six years, right?” Octavia clarified. 

He nodded. 

“What happened?” 

He blew out a long breath. 

“Life.” At her quizzical look, he attempted to clarify. “Just...we were young. Priorities changed. We changed. It just...wasn’t right any more.”

She looked skeptical but let it go. “So, did you guys ever think about getting married?” 

He was quiet for a long moment before Thelonious broke the silence. 

“Everyone else was sure they were going to. Hell, I was sure they were going to.” 

Bellamy lifted an eyebrow. 

“So, that’s a no?” 

He took a long inhale before answering. 

“I asked. She said no.” 

Thelonious turned to him, surprise clearly written on his face.

“What? I never knew that.” 

He nodded, an apology in his eyes. 

“It was towards the end of everything.” He sighed. “It wasn’t the cause of the end -” 

“But it obviously didn’t help, either.” Octavia added quietly. 

He nodded. “It was just...I don’t know...a stupid, last ditch attempt to try and fix everything.” He cleared his throat. “She was right to say no. Saying yes would’ve been a huge disaster.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t take it that way, at the time.” Bellamy concluded. 

He smiled wryly. “I did not. But, like I said, the disastrous proposal was just a symptom of bigger problems in our relationship.”

“Your fight after your mom’s funeral makes a lot more sense, now.” Thelonious added in quietly, as though working through his thoughts out loud. “I’m kind of surprised that I didn’t figure it all out sooner.” 

He glanced at Thelonious. “I’m sorry I never told you. At first it was too raw. Then…” He shrugged. “After a while, it didn’t really seem important.” 

Thelonious clapped him on the shoulder.

“It was a long time ago.” 

He smiled gratefully at him. 

Octavia leaned forward. “So, what happened after that?” 

“Besides one or two major events, we stayed out of one another’s lives completely. Lived our own lives. She got married - to someone great, I was told - I considered it once more but never...” He huffed a small laugh. “Well, obviously that never panned out.” 

“The way you’re explaining it now, it seems like neither of you should’ve really cared about seeing one another again.” Bellamy pointed out.

“But that obviously wasn’t the case.” Octavia continued. “So what changed in that twenty year period?”

It was a fair question and one that he'd spent a lot of the last four weeks wondering himself. He chewed his lip thoughtfully. 

“Me, I think.” 

Octavia and Bellamy wore twin expressions of confusion. Thelonious regarded him impassively, though there was a hint of understanding in his eyes. 

He breathed out forcefully, tried to find the words to explain. “By the time everything ended, Abby had literally been in my life longer than any other person who wasn't directly responsible for bringing me into the world. I’d spent two decades believing that we’d always have one another - in some way.” He paused. “Then, one day, that just wasn’t the case any more.” 

He looked down and pushed around the food on his plate. It was somewhat discomfiting to put words to things that he hadn’t ever said out loud before; still, there was a sense of relief to it,too. 

“I didn’t take it well.” 

Thelonious snorted and looked at Marcus disbelievingly. 

He chuckled darkly. 

“Ok, I was basically a jackass. For a long time.” 

“Not just about Abby.” Thelonious added. 

He nodded. “Not just about Abby. When I stopped bitter about it all, I just went off and did my own thing. Forgot all about that part of my life. But, I also...I was kind of...no, I was just a jackass all around. For a good while.” 

“You’re not now, though.” Octavia assured him. “I mean, you’re sometimes overly concerned about the amount of lunch detentions I serve. But, you know…” 

“Jackasses don’t take in two poor kids just for the hell of it.” Bellamy finished up. 

He smiled softly at them. 

“Well, you two just had the fortune of meeting me after I repented from my jackassery.” He cleared his throat and rocked back in his chair. “And once I did that, I realized how much of an impact she’d had on my life.” He looked over the table, struggled to clarify exactly what he meant. “I spent nearly twenty years thinking that she was one of the most important things in my life. Then, I spent ten years telling myself how unimportant she was.” 

Octavia cocked her head to the side. “And the ten years since then?” 

He looked at her pensively. “These past ten years I’ve just been grateful to know that someone who used to be so important to me is happy.” 

“And what does Abby know about you, then?” Octavia asked. 

“Like I said, she and Thelonious stayed close after everything. Thelonious and I stayed close, obviously. So - ” 

He looked over at Thelonious, who leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment. 

“She knows about you two, obviously. Not everything but - enough. She knew the reason he left the law firm and when he started teaching. Little bits and pieces about his illustrious teaching career and championship basketball coaching.” He tapped his fingers idly on his arm, then turned to Marcus. “I think she knows enough to be happy for how your life’s turned out, which is what she always wanted - even when you were at peak jackass levels.” 

He nodded and then glanced up at the clock, raised his eyebrow at the two siblings in front of him. 

“That’s going to have to tide the two of you over for now.” He pointed up at the clock. “The two of you need to get going on your homework while your principal and I prepare for this board meeting.” 

Octavia gave a long suffering sigh, then nodded as Bellamy got up and began to clear the dishes from the table. 

As the two men were leaving the room, Octavia reached over and grabbed Marcus by the arm. 

“Hey, thanks for telling us all of this. I know you’re not, like, exactly Mr. Feelings.” 

He smiled down at her and squeezed the hand on her arm. 

“You’re welcome.” 

She was quiet for a moment longer before she grinned up at him. 

“And just so you know, none of this has convinced me that you and Abby are still not secretly meant for each other.”


	6. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He ran his hand idly over his beard, then felt Abby nudge him gently.
> 
> “You know, I don’t think I’ve never seen you with a beard before.”
> 
> He chuckled ruefully.
> 
> “I do it every year for no shave November. It started as a bet with one of my seniors a few years ago - then it just became tradition.” He ran a hand over it. “As soon as December hits, it’s gone though.”
> 
> She tilted her head and chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip.
> 
> “It - well - looks good on you.” She smiled at him, and there was something shy about it that felt wholly endearing to him. “Somehow it just - fits.”

“Why do we have seat assignments this year?”

Marcus looked over and saw Bellamy picking up a neatly folded card from the dining room table.

Wells shrugged and continued to set down napkins and silverware around the table.

“Octavia’s idea. I guess - since Abby and Clarke are going to be here? She thought it might be better for the overall flow of conversation - or something.” He glanced up at Bellamy. “Basically, she really wanted to do it and dad didn’t care enough to say no.”

“Uh huh,” Bellamy said skeptically, elongating the last vowel of the word. He caught Marcus’s eye and grinned. “Wanna guess who you’re sitting next to?”

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes.

“I don’t think we need seat assignments just because two additional people are joining us for Thanksgiving.”

“Of course you would think that,” Octavia said as she bounded into the room with Thelonious behind her, “but you’re wrong.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Everyone here knows one another already, Octavia. It’s not like we’re all a bunch of strangers.”

She shook her head as she deposited the food in her hand on the table.

“Clarke and Bellamy don’t really know another another, so they can’t sit next to each other. You and Jaha just end up talking about work if you sit next each other, so that’s a non-starter. Bellamy and I will end up fighting over the food if we’re next to each other and I wouldn’t dream of forcing Clarke to sit next to her history professor.”

Wells and Bellamy nodded along with her, while Thelonious crossed his arms and leaned against the wall with a barely concealed look of mirth on his face.

“You have to admit, Marcus,” he said in complete seriousness, “Octavia does bring up good points. Plus, I already told her she could _and_ she took the trouble of making the cards. Might as well just go with it.”

Before he could get out his retort, the doorbell rang.

Octavia turned to him with a bright grin.

“That must be them!” She turned to Bellamy, Wells and Thelonious. “Why don’t you three get the rest of the food out here while Kane and I get the door.”

She turned and tugged his shirtsleeve, beckoning him to follow her. Thelonious and Wells filed out of the room while Bellamy lingered momentarily, his eyebrows raised in amusement at Marcus before he turned and went into the kitchen.

Marcus shook his head and slowly followed Octavia. He heard Octavia’s bright greeting drift through the open doorway, turned the corner and saw Abby and Clarke standing in the foyer with four boxes of pie.

The three women turned and looked at him as he entered.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he said with a smile. He nodded at the boxes in their hands. “I see you took your job of bringing desserts very seriously.”

Clarke laughed.

“Mom didn’t know what everyone wanted, so we just got a mix of stuff. We have pumpkin, of course, cherry cobbler, chocolate pecan, and peanut butter chocolate.”  

Octavia smiled, then glanced at him, a sly look ghosting over her features.

“Peanut butter chocolate is Kane’s favorite.” She turned back to Clarke. “So that’s pretty lucky you guys got it.”

She reached over and grabbed two of the boxes out of Abby’s hand.

“Clarke and I can set this up in kitchen while you guys go ahead and sit down.” She smiled at Abby. “Kane can show you where you’re supposed to sit.”

Abby looked at their retreating figures before turning to him with a slight raise of her eyebrows.

“We have assigned seats?”

He coughed a laugh as he started to walk to the dining room.

“Octavia just wanted to make sure that Thelonious and I didn’t sit and talk work all afternoon. Or that Clarke wouldn’t be forced to make small talk with her history teacher.”

Abby smiled.

“Oh, that’s really thoughtful.”

He cleared his throat as he pulled out her chair, then settled in the one next to her.

“Yup, that’s Octavia,” he said, managing to keep most of the wryness from his voice.

* * *

Partway through the meal, Abby turned to him with a look of surprise.

“Did you make the mac and cheese?”

He nodded.

“I thought so! It tastes just like your mom’s.” She looked up and around, a vaguely guilty expression on her face. “It actually...tastes slightly better.”

He laughed.

“I think she’d forgive you for saying that.”

She smiled and took another bite, her eyes closing involuntarily.

“God, I’ve missed this mac and cheese.” She opened her eyes and, for a moment, he thought he could just make out a flush of red creeping up her neck.

He’s not quite sure what to say to that, is saved from having to answer when Octavia pipes up from next to him.

“He normally doesn’t make it for Thanksgiving since we give him all the hardest food to make.”

Abby smiled at him.

“Guess I lucked out this year, then.” She took another bite before glancing over at Octavia. “Everything is delicious, though. Octavia, did you say that you and Bellamy made the green beans?”

She nodded.

“Bellamy, Wells, Jaha and I split the sides and Kane handles the big, important stuff because he’s the best cook.”

He shot a skeptical look at Octavia.

“Octavia’s actually just as good of a cook as I am - she just says I’m better so she doesn’t have to do the turkey.”

She grinned at him, but said nothing, chose instead to turn and talk to Clarke across the table.

He ran his hand idly over his beard, then felt Abby nudge him gently.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve never seen you with a beard before.”

He chuckled ruefully.

“I do it every year for no shave November. It started as a bet with one of my seniors a few years ago - then it just became tradition.” He ran a hand over it. “As soon as December hits, it’s gone though.”

She tilted her head and chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip.

“It - well - looks good on you.” She smiled at him, and there was something shy about it that felt wholly endearing to him. “Somehow it just - fits.”

He raised his eyebrow at her.

“Fits?”

She huffed a small, embarrassed laugh and nodded.

“Fits the man you are now, I guess.” She shrugged, then grinned. “My completely unsolicited opinion is that you should keep it.” She smiled at him again before Thelonious called over to her and she turned away from him.

He ran his hand over his beard once more and winced when he felt Octavia’s sharp elbow in his side.

He looked over at her, a wide grin plastered on her face as she leaned closely to him, her voice pitched soft and low.

“Guess that means I can take a new razor off of your Christmas list, then?”

* * *

He stared at the stack of plates and cups next to the sink and grabbed a pair of rubber gloves next to the sink. He turned to hand them to Octavia, found her standing near the doorway of the kitchen.

“Ready?”

She shook her head, then grinned.

“I thought maybe I’d watch the game this year.”

He furrowed his brow and crossed his arms in front of him.

“Octavia, you don’t even like football.”

“Since when?”

“Since always. Since you were nine and said it was a barbaric game for people who were too stupid to realize that soccer was a way better sport.”

She stared at him blankly before shaking her head - though she couldn’t quite hide the slight upturn at the corners of her mouth.

“No idea what you’re talking about. I’m going to go and watch the game.”

She projected the last part of the sentence, just in time for Abby to enter the kitchen with the last of the dishes. She answered his glare with a grin before flouncing off to living room.

Abby set down the dishes next to him.

“The lure of football is strong, I guess.”

He made an affirmative noise, then sighed as he took in the stack of dishes in front of him. She looked at him sympathetically.

“It’s supposed to be a pretty big game. I’m guessing she’s a big Cardinals fan?”

He almost snorted out loud at that - he doubted that Octavia could name one player on the entire Cardinals roster. Instead, he nodded slowly.

“Something like that.”

“Well, lucky for you, what I lack in cooking ability, I more than make up for cleaning skills.” She grabbed the gloves out of his hand and began filling up the sink with water. “You know, it seems a little unfair that you cook the turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and mac and cheese _and_ have to do the dishes.”

He shrugged. “You know I’ve never really cared about football. And, normally, neither does Octavia. It’s actually kind of a tradition that we do the dishes together and chat.”

There must have been a hint of sadness in his voice because Abby knocked her shoulder into his and leaned against him for a moment.

“Well, I don’t quite have Octavia’s talent for constantly giving you shit,” she smiled as he threw his head back and laughed at that, “but I can certainly give it a shot.”

“You did used to be the best at it.”

She laughed, then nodded.

“I was, wasn’t I?” She grinned at his answering nod. “I’m probably just out of practice.”

There was a slight pause as their past shimmered in the air between them. A quiet that’s equal parts comfortable and stiff descended before Abby leveled a teasing look at him.

“The food really was delicious, Marcus. Which was somewhat of a surprise because I don’t actually remember you being that good of a cook. I’d probably say passable, at best.”

He looked at her, a look of mock offense on his face.

“This coming from someone whose idea of dinner used to be a plain potato heated in the microwave.”  

She laughed and held her hands up in front of her.

“Fair enough.”

He smiled at her and shook his head.

“No, you’re right. I only really got into cooking when I started making meals for Octavia and Bellamy regularly. Bellamy’s idea of dinner was cereal. Ramen, if he was feeling fancy.” He looked over at her before fixing his stare back at the dishes in front of him. “It wasn’t his fault - he was just a kid himself. He was basically taking care of Octavia full-time by the time he was fifteen. Once he and Octavia moved in next door, I started making sure they were eating properly.”

She was quiet for a moment, the only sound the gentle slosh of water and the sounds of Bellamy and Wells cheering from the living room.

When she started to speak, her voice was soft - almost sad. “Jake was always the one who cooked in the house. You know that I was never much of a cook and then I was always so busy with work, so he and Clarke ended up doing a lot of the cooking. After he died, I thought maybe I’d just pick it up.” She looked ruefully up at him. “Clarke was only 13 at the time, but after a couple of failed attempts, she basically took over all kitchen duties. Except for the cleaning - that I always do. ” The sadness disappeared from her voice, covered up by a self-effacing grin. “That’s how I picked up my truly excellent dish washing skills.”

He smiled down at her and waved his hands over the half washed stack of dishes.

“You are actually much more efficient than Octavia is. And she always manages to chip at least one of the dishes. I’m surprised Thelonious still has enough of a set to have dinner with.”

She smiled, then tilted her head down and motioned to empty dish that once held the macaroni and cheese.

“So how exactly did you manage to perfect an already great mac and cheese recipe?”

He smiled and nodded.

“It’s what Bellamy always asks for when he needs comfort food, so I’ve gotten really good at it over the years. It’s not - I mean - it’s probably not the best thing to feed a kid when he’s sick or feeling down but -,” he shrugged, “he so rarely asks for anything, really, that I can’t help but make it when he does.”

There’s a softness in Abby’s eyes that he can’t quite look away from.

“You know, Thelonious told me about the two of them, years and years ago. And I was happy, because he seemed to think it was good for you. I just couldn’t, I don’t know, really grasp what that looked like. I mean, I knew that Bellamy was a student of yours a while back and that they came from a bad home life.” She set down the last dish in the dishwasher, then turned to face him with a pensive look in her eyes. “But I didn’t really understand it until I met them and saw the way they look at you.”

He tilted his head and shot her a questioning look.

“You’re their dad, Marcus.” She waved away the look of protest on his face. “I know it’s not defined that way in any sort of legal or official capacity, but it’s obvious to anyone that’s looking that you’re their dad in all the ways that matter.”   

He leaned back against the sink and looked out towards the living room.

“I’m not sure how good of a father I really am, then.” He glanced down at her and crossed his arms. “It’s been nearly a decade and half the time I still feel like I have no idea what I’m doing.”

She laughed and leaned against him, the backs of her fingers brushing lightly against his own.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, Marcus, but that’s how you know you’re a parent.” Her eyes softened at the sound of Clarke’s laughter echoing through the house. “You just love your kid and make the rest up as you go along.”

He laughed and ducked his head.

“I’ll have to take your word for it, seeing as you raised a kid as great as Clarke.”

She smiled at him.

“I had help. You raised two great kids on your own.” She flexed her fingers and grabbed his, squeezed them tightly. “I always knew you’d be a good father, Marcus.” She tilted her head up slightly, a warm, teasing look on her face. “I’m just glad that time has, once again, proven me right.”


	7. Soccer Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus and Abby spend time together watching their kids' games during soccer season.

_Currently_

Marcus stared at his reflection in the mirror and ran his hand over the shape of his beard, droplets of water from his shower still clinging to it. He patted it down with a towel and lightly ran a razor over it, taking care not to press down too firmly and inadvertently end up with a bald spot. Satisfied that his beard was groomed enough to make him look presentable, he left the bathroom and dressed quickly, wanting to get downstairs and make sure the Blakes hadn’t done anything exceptionally ridiculous to the kitchen. There’d been talks of dim lighting, flower petals, and dozens of lit candles before he’d headed upstairs to shower. He didn’t think the two were serious, but he also couldn’t exactly put it past them.  

He tried to stifle the curl of excitement in his chest, if only to keep the knowing looks and, probably closer to the truth, the outright teases from Bellamy and Octavia to a minimum. He sighed and fixed the features on his face in an expression that at least approached casual before shutting off the bedroom light and heading downstairs.

He almost sighed out loud in relief when he stepped into the kitchen and saw that it was entirely bereft of any lit candles or flower petals. There was only Bellamy putting the finishing touches on the salad and Octavia sitting at the kitchen counter, reading a book with highlighter in hand.

Bellamy glanced over at him as he came into the kitchen and leaned back against the counter.

“You’re not going to shave?”

“Why would he?” Octavia countered, marking her page with her highlighter before closing the book. “Abby likes the beard.”

“Actually, I like the beard.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Not everything is about Abby.”

“Of course not. This just randomly happens to be the one year where you’ve actually kept it after November. Completely and totally unrelated to Abby at all.”

Bellamy smirked at him and tipped his head to the side, raising his eyebrows in silent agreement.

He ignored the both of them and motioned over to the stove.

“So is everything ready?”

Bellamy nodded. “The chicken and vegetables are done, I just kept them in the oven so that they’d stay warm.”

“And your world famous, completely loved by Abby but I’m sure it’s just a coincidence that you made it, mac and cheese is in that pot on the stove,” Octavia finished up. “Even though it doesn’t exactly go with the rest of the meal.”

He shrugged.

“We needed a side.”

Octavia raised her eyebrow at him, then glanced at both of them.

“Anyway, I feel like everyone should be congratulating me, since it’s basically thanks to me that she’s even coming over here.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s coming here for the mac and cheese,” Bellamy said wryly, “so the credit should go to Kane for making it during Thanksgiving.”

Octavia waved her hand dismissively.

“That was months ago. And you,” she stared accusingly at Marcus, “were too chicken to invite her over for dinner after that even though she spent half the meal complimenting your food and your beard, and then the entire football game hanging out with you.”

“We weren’t hanging out.”

He put his hands out in front of him as if to deflect their skeptical looks.

“We weren't just hanging out, then. She just very graciously stepped in to help me with the dishes when someone decided they all of a sudden cared about football.”

Octavia grinned mercilessly at him.

“What can I say - it was a great game.”

He snorted and shook his head as Bellamy threw back his head and laughed.

“Don’t worry, O,” he said, looking over mischievously at his sister, “you can make sure to take all the credit when you give a speech at the wedding I know you’re already planning.”

He decided to ignore that comment, turned and raised an eyebrow at Octavia instead.

“So, why exactly should we all be thanking you?”

“Because it’s all because of soccer season that Abby’s coming over here for dinner tonight.”

Bellamy braced his hands against the counter and leveled a skeptical look at Octavia.

“How do you figure?”

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Remember when the two of them got stuck in the rain? And Kane had to take her home because her car died?” Bellamy nodded slowly as Octavia continued. “And then, after the make-up game, you guys spent all that time together at the hospital.”

Bellamy crossed his arms in front of him.

“I’m not sure you can take credit for making it rain so hard that your game was cancelled - or the fact that Abby’s battery randomly stopped working.”  

“And I hope that you didn’t get that concussion during that finals game on purpose,” Marcus added with a lift of his eyebrow.

She gave them both a look of pure exasperation.

“Of course not.” She stood up and put one hand on her hip, the other in front of her. “But neither of those things would’ve happened if it weren’t for soccer season. You have to admit that all those games brought the two of you close again.”

He sighed, but found that he couldn’t say anything to deny it, either. 

* * *

 

_Then - Game 1_

Even though he’s been watching Octavia’s soccer games for going on eight years now, and even though Octavia herself seems to relish the start of every season, he still can’t help but feel a tiny bit nervous at the start of every season opener. He knows that once the game starts and the players start running across the field it’ll immediately dissipate, replaced by excitement and pride; still, his foot starts to beat out an erratic rhythm on the steel of the bleachers that’s both wholly unnecessary and unstoppable.  

He leans against the railing in front of him and tries to still the beat of his foot. Octavia catches his eye and smiles at him. He sees her speak to her coach for a moment before she tightens the laces of her shoes and walks over to him, comes right up to the fence and reaches through it to swat his jogging leg.

“You know this is going to be a cake walk for us, right? I don’t understand why you get nervous every year.”

He chuckles and rocks back on his heels.

“I’m not nervous.”

She huffs and starts to rolls her eyes; halfway through, the expression on her face shifts, turns into a gleeful sort of mischievousness.

She clears her throat and tilts her head slightly to the left, subtly directs her gaze behind him.

He has just a moment to give her a confused glance before he feels a light pressure on his shoulder.

“Who’s nervous?” Abby asks from behind him. He momentarily tightens his grip the railing in front of him, tries to hide the involuntary sharp intake of breath at the sound of her so close to him. If the smirk on Octavia’s face is any indication, he doesn’t think he’s done a very good job of it.

Octavia smiles up at Abby.

“Kane is.” She rolls her eyes, then shoots them both a good natured grin. “He always gets this way the first game of the season. It’s alright though - five minutes in and he’ll forget he was ever nervous and start screaming at the ref.”

Abby laughs as he clears his throat and knits his brows.

“I don’t yell at refs.” At Octavia’s raised brow, he smiles wryly and amends his reply. “Ok, only when it’s Williams who’s reffing though.”

“So, am I in for a show today, then?” Abby asks beside him.

Octavia glances at the refs behind her and shakes her head.

“Not from Kane, unfortunately.”

The rest of her reply is cut short when a curt voice calls out her last name.

“Oops, overstayed my hello. See you guys after the game!”

With a last wave, she runs back over to the bench, making a plaintive gesture to her thoroughly unimpressed looking coach.

He shakes his head, then turns to Abby and gestures to the bleachers behind him.   
“Here ok?”

She nodded and set her bag down, rolled her shoulders and neck, then sighed wearily.

He gave her a lopsided smile of sympathy.

“Long day?”

She smiled back at him.

“Yeah, just getting used to being a PCP. It’s less stressful than working at the hospital, but it’s just a different kind of strain, I guess.” She leaned back against the seat behind them. “On the plus side, I have a schedule that allows me to live like a normal person for the first time in almost 20 years. I think this is the first time I’ve been able to be at a season opener.”

“You’re in for a treat. This team’s won state every year for the past six years. And I can’t get through a single dinner with Octavia without her talking about how good they are this year.” He glanced at her before motioning over to Clarke. “From what I hear, you’ve raised quite a soccer player. Octavia swears that Clarke is an even better goalie than the senior girl they had last year - and she ended up going to college on a full-ride soccer scholarship.”

Abby beamed at him, then shook her head ruefully.

“I raised a daughter that’s twice as stubborn and self-actualized as I ever was, but I can’t take any credit to her soccer skills. That was all Jake.” The expression on her face turned sad and reflective for a moment, before evening out once more. “He was her coach from when she was five up until she started her first club team in fifth grade. My work schedule at the hospital was always so crazy, so I never got to more than half of her games.” She shook her head. “This’ll be the first year in her entire soccer career that I can actually make it to every single one of her games.”

He leaned back and nodded his head before glancing over at her.

“Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other then.”

She smiled at him, wide and bright.

“That’s what I was hoping for.”

* * *

 

_Game 3_

As soon as they sat down, Abby’s stomach let out a truly impressive growl. She clapped her hands over her abdomen and chuckled, though there was an embarrassed bent to her shoulders.

“I may have forgotten to eat lunch.” She admitted with a sideways glance.

He frowned at her.

“What about breakfast?”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

“I had breakfast.”

He raised his eyebrow at her and leveled a skeptical look at her.

“Coffee doesn’t count.” He narrowed his eyes as she began to respond. “A half-eaten power bar you found in the bottom of your bag doesn’t count either.”

She huffed and knocked her shoulder into him.

“Marcus, it’s been 20 years. Don’t you think I’d have slightly better eating habits than when we were in college?”

“Well, have you?”

Her look of defiance slid into a wry sort of guilt.

“It was an apple I found in the bottom of my bag, so I’d say yes.”

He gave her an unimpressed look before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a plastic container and handing it to her.

“Here. I brought this for Bellamy, but he ended up picking up an extra shift at the library, so now it’s yours.”

He pulled out a second container and balanced it on his lap, reached down in his bag to grab two sets of plastic silverware wrapped in a napkin. He handed one to her before opening the tupperware on his lap.

“Oh. My God.”

He turned to her, spoon halfway to his mouth, slightly alarmed.

“What? Is it bad?”

She shook her head, hand clapped over her mouth as she attempted to chew and laugh at the same time. She swallowed then laid her hands on his arm.

“No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. It’s just - actually - amazingly, ridiculously good.” She shook her head and gave him a slightly awestruck look. “Honestly, better than any food I’ve probably made for myself - ever - and better than most restaurant food I’ve had in a long while.”

“Oh.” He grinned over at her, found himself feeling strangely shy for a moment and brushed his hair back to try and distract himself from it. “Well, I’m glad you like it.”

“I could quite possibly eat this every night for a month and not get tired of it.”

He nodded slowly, storing that little tidbit in the back of his mind. Then, he took a deep breath, and tried to ignore the inner voice within him that he swore sounded eerily similar to Octavia.

“It’s a personal favorite of mine, too. I’ll - uh - have to invite you over, maybe, next time I make it.”

She looked at him, a slow smile blooming on her face.

“That’d be nice.”

* * *

 

_Game 6_

“I feel bad.”

He nodded and looked up at the scoreboard.

“Yeah, this is getting brutal. I think there’s a mercy rule that can be applied before halftime.”

Abby chuckled and nudged him lightly with her elbow, waiting for him to turn and look at her before gesturing at the half empty tupperware in her lap.

“Not about the game, Marcus. About the fact that you always bring me dinner.”

He tilted his head to the side.

“No need to feel bad. I always make enough for two. Plus, since Bellamy’s class and work schedule have gotten in the way of him being able to come - it’s been nice to have the company.” He smiled at her and gestured to the half eaten dinners in their laps. “You’re actually doing me the favor by eating with me. Without you, I’d just sit here, eat dinner by myself and grumble under my breath at the refs.”

She laughed.

“Well, I’m glad to be of use to you. But, I do feel like I should bring something to the proverbial table other than the pleasure of my company.”

“Not much I can think of wanting other than that.”

It comes out before he can really think about what he’s saying. He almost wanted to hide his face in embarrassment until he noticed the soft, warm look that Abby was giving him from the corner of his eye.

An easy silence descended between the two of them. Finally, he heard Abby shift next to him; he turned to look at her, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Coffee, maybe? Dessert? There’s a Starbucks that I pass on my way here - I can always pick something up for the two of us.”

He exhaled a smile.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t say no to coffee.” After a moment, he added, “Or...a cake pop.”

She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Cake pop? Really? I remember you being very anti cake when we were younger.” She shook her head at him. “Ridiculous man that you are.”

He nodded, then smiled at her.

“I’m still not fond of it. But there’s just something about those cake pops that’s appeals to me, for whatever reason.”

She pursed her lips, then nodded slowly before smiling at him.

“Alright. Next game, you bring whatever absurdly delicious home cooked meal you whip up in your kitchen, and I will stop by Starbucks and get us pre-made sugary desserts and coffee.”

He smiled at her.

“Sounds perfect.”

* * *

 

_Game 7_

“Doesn’t basketball season run concurrently with soccer here?”

He nodded.

“Our practices end at 5 and Octavia’s school games always start at 6, so I can always make it right on time - even if the games are away.”

“You never have games on the same day?”

He shook his head.

“That’s pretty fortunate.”

He grinned at her.

“I might get together with the athletic director at the beginning of every year and, uh, make suggestions as to when the games should be scheduled.”

She chuckled.

“I thought it was particularly lucky.” She looked briefly at him out of the corner of her eye before returning her attention back to the game. “I’m glad. It makes me happy to be able to spend all this time with you.”

He looked over at her; wasn’t sure whether it was the reflection of the setting sun, but he could almost swear that there was a slight flush creeping up her neck.

He cleared his throat and smiled at her.

“Me too.”


	8. Rained Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stopped as he finally looked up and saw her, his heart suddenly thumping painfully in his chest. She was wearing colorful socks and simple grey sweatpants, a tight black tank top with her hair up in a messy bun.
> 
> It seemed ridiculous - that this is the side of her that should leave him breathless, his veins thrumming loudly with yearning. But there was something about the scene before him that felt right, something about it that was wonderfully familiar and novel all at once: him preparing dinner, her standing easily in clothes meant for home. It was intimate and settled and easy in a way he had, once, with her; in a way he dreamt of now, secretly and silently.

_Game 12_

 “They won’t let the game continue if it keeps raining this hard.”

In the next moment, the referee came out to talk to the coaches. He saw each side nod in agreement and jog back to the players, who immediately began packing up.

“Guess that's our cue to leave before this gets any worse,” Abby said as she began packing up their partially eaten food. He made sure to keep her firmly under the umbrella, not minding the large droplets of water that plopped down on his shoulder. 

When she was done, he slung his bag over his shoulder and was about to turn and ask if she was ready to go when she suddenly stopped and reached into her purse. 

“Hi honey,” she said, mouthing sorry to him over the her cell phone. A large gust of wind blew into them and she instinctively leaned into him to shield her phone away from the spray of the rain. “Yah, that's fine. Ok, I'll let him know, too. Yeah, that's perfect sweetie. Love you, too.” 

She hung up and looked up at him.

“The team’s gonna go out for pizza.” 

“Do I need to pick Octavia up from the school?”

She shook her head.

 “Clarke will just take her back home, so we're both good to head straight home from here.”

He nodded and then shifted the umbrella slightly in an attempt to cover them more fully from the rain.

“Sorry,” he said apologetically, “it's a travel umbrella so it's not exactly roomy underneath.”

She smiled.

“It's fine, Marcus. We just have to make it work until the parking lot. Here.” She switched her purse to the opposite side of her, then stepped in closer to him and wrapped an arm around his waist. “We’ll just have to squeeze under it.”

He swallowed quickly, tried to keep his pulse under control as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and drew her closer to his side.

“Alright,” he said quickly, “ready?”

He felt her nod and started walking briskly down the bleacher steps, careful to keep the umbrella directly above the two of them.

“Luckily we parked right next to each other,” she said loudly over the sound of the driving rain.

He walked over to her car first, held the umbrella slightly more over her frame as she unlocked her door.

“Thanks, Marcus. I'll see you on Friday?”

“I'll be here.”

He ran over to his car as soon as her door shut, quickly springing into the driver’s seat and shaking out the dampness from his hair.

He was just turning the heater on when his passenger door opened and Abby slid into the seat.

“My car won't start.” She looked guiltily at him. ”I'm pretty sure I left my lights on.”

He smiled at her.

“No problem - I have jumper cables in the back. Once the rain lets up a little bit, we can try jumping it.” At that moment, a loud clap of thunder shook the car, the rain seeming to simultaneously double in ferocity.

She shot him a wry look.

“So, do we plan on waiting here for the next hour or so, then?"

She said it as though it were the most ridiculous suggestion to make; his immediate reaction was to think - “I wouldn’t care.” He was halfway through an accompanying shrug when he froze, looked over at her and tried to play it off as a shiver instead.

"You know how these rainstorms are sometimes, Abby. This could clear up in another five minutes."

A phenomenal bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, as though punctuating his sentence. She raised her eyebrow at him.

"Summer storms, maybe. But I don’t remember these winter ones blowing over as quickly.” They were both quiet for a moment before Abby continued. “Let’s do this - you can drop me off at home and Clarke will just drive me back to my car tomorrow morning."

He nodded and turned on the car, flipped through the radio stations as he waited for Abby to put on her seat belt.

After a minute had passed and he still hadn’t heard the tell-tale click, he turned to her.

“Abby, seriously? Twenty years, a child, and an MD and you still don’t wear your seatbelt?”

“I...try to? Mostly?” She turned and fastened the seatbelt. “I almost always do when I’m driving.”

He shook his head and put the car in reverse, began driving carefully out of the parking lot.

After about few minutes of quiet, he heard her groan. Flicked his eyes over to the passenger seat to see her staring at the speedometer, a look of exasperation in her eyes.

“Marcus, you’ve become one of those drivers that drives ridiculously slow when it rains here.”

He shook his head and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Abby, I’ve always been one of those drivers. I drove like this even when I had the Corvette.”

“What? How did I never notice that?” She paused, then looked over at him in surprise when she caught up with the rest of his sentence. “Wait - you owned a Corvette?”

He nodded.

“You never noticed because Jaha always drove when we were kids. Then, when you and I were toge -.” He stumbled over the words, still wasn’t sure how they were supposed to be treating that time of their shared lives. “I mean, in college, you basically always drove.”

“And the Corvette?”

“A stupid purchase when I was a young, brash attorney who wanted to show everyone I was hot shit.” He grinned over at her when she laughed. “I sold it when I quit the firm, bought this car instead.”

She nodded, then looked over at him thoughtfully.

“You can mention it, you know.” At his confused glance, she shrugged and waved her hand before her in a smooth motion. “The two of us, being together - before. It happened and it was good and I don’t regret it.” She looked sadly at him. “Even if we did hate each other for a long time after it.”

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

“I never hated you, Abby.”

She huffed a noise of disbelief, looked over at him with a skeptical raise of her brow.

He looked over at her, fixed his expression into sober sincerity.

“I didn’t.” He chewed his lip. “I was an asshole. I was bitter and angry and stupid. And I...stopped understanding you, stopped even trying to. But I never hated you.”

She was quiet for a moment, then grinned at him, an only somewhat apologetic look on her face.

“Well, I hated you. For a while.”

He huffed a small laugh at that.

“Oh, I believe it.” He slowed the car down to a stop a stop sign and looked over at her. “That’s fair though - I deserved it.” He focused his eyes back on the road as he continued down the street.

“I won’t disagree with that.”

He smiled, glanced over at her before turning down her street.

“But you don’t now, I’m guessing? Unless this has all been an elaborate ruse to get free, home cooked food out of me.”

“I don’t now. I haven’t for a long time.” He met her eyes momentarily as she glanced over at him, an expression of warmth and fondness in them that made warmth crawl up his chest. “You make it too hard to hate you.”

He wanted desperately to ask what she meant by that, but hesitated to until the moment had passed. He turned into her driveway, put the car in park and turned towards her.

“Even if it was all an elaborate ruse, I wouldn’t mind. It’d be worth it to have you secretly hate me just to be able to have dinner with you three times a week.”

A slow smile crept across her face. She pushed back a piece of hair that had fallen across her eyes, then cleared her throat.

"So, do you want to come in? We never got to finish our dinner." She tilted her head at him, then grinned. “And it might be nice to actually eat it warmed up and on plates for once.”

He nodded, then turned off the car and grabbed his umbrella.

“Hold on a second - I’ll come around.”

He got out of the car and opened up the umbrella quickly above him. Tried to ignore the sense of weighty breathlessness at the prospect of having dinner, alone in a house, with Abby.

“Oh, get over yourself,” he mumbled aloud, feeling only mildly ridiculous for it. “It’s just dinner.” Between two old friends, he thought silently, ferociously. Two friends who...used to love one another, a quiet voice in the back of his head brought up. With this woman who you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with.

He groaned at that train of thought, tried to silence that inner voice as he opened the door for her and shifted the umbrella over her as she got out. She immediately wrapped her arm around his waist and moved closer to him, tugged him closer to get him more fully underneath the shared umbrella. He draped his arm loosely over her shoulder and waited for her to close the door behind her before starting up the driveway.

He shook out the umbrella on her front doorstep before stepping into the house. She closed the door behind him, then shook out her hair from its clip.

“I’m going to go upstairs really quick and change into something that’s dry and doesn’t smell like a doctor’s office. There’s wine and beer in the kitchen, plates are in the second cabinet from the fridge.”

He nodded and went into the kitchen as she hurried up the stairs, busied himself with heating up the food and getting it laid out onto two plates while she changed. He was cutting up some green onions when he heard her step into the kitchen and open the fridge door.

“Hey, I hope you don’t mind - this dish is just better with green onions on top, so I took some from your fridge and - .”

He stopped as he finally looked up and saw her, his heart suddenly thumping painfully in his chest. She was wearing colorful socks and simple grey sweatpants, a tight black tank top with her hair up in a messy bun.

It seemed ridiculous - that this is the side of her that should leave him breathless, his veins thrumming loudly with yearning. But there was something about the scene before him that felt right, something about it that was wonderfully familiar and novel all at once: him preparing dinner, her standing easily in clothes meant for home. It was intimate and settled and easy in a way he had, once, with her; in a way he dreamt of now, secretly and silently.

He was startled out of his musing by the sound of her shutting the fridge door. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts - he’d have to deal with them more fully later - and looked up at Abby’s smiling face.

“Whatever makes the meal better is free to use.”  She lifted two bottles of beer up at him. “Here is my contribution to dinner.”

“And a great contribution it is,” he said, picking up the two plates and smiling at her. “So, dining room?”

A amused look flitted across her face.

“Normally, yes. But right now Clarke has a whole bunch of school supplies and research thrown across it.” She tilted her head at him. “Apparently her AP Gov professor assigned a huge research paper that everyone’s stressed out about.”

He laughed.

“Trust me, she’ll be thanking me when she has to take the test at the end of the year.”

Abby leveled a wry look at him.

“I’ll be sure to let Clarke know. Anyway, for now, let’s eat on the couch. I don’t want to accidentally drip sauce on an article about judicial restraint and give Clarke a nervous breakdown.”

He grinned and followed her into the living room, settled down on the far end of the couch, facing the TV. He dropped his plate into his lap, while Abby sat perpendicular to him, resting her back against the armrest of the couch and balancing her plate between her raised knees and chest.

They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes before he felt Abby nudge his thigh gently with the tip of her colorful socks.

“This reminds me of when we were young.”

He nodded.

“Though to be fair, we actually have a dining table now, we just choose not to use it.” He set his plate down on the side table and picked up his beer. “And I don’t think we could’ve ever afforded beer this good.”

She laughed, raised a forkful of food in his direction.

“The food’s a lot better, too.”

He smiled at her.

“The company’s still just as nice, though.”

She looked down for a moment before looking back up at him and smiling. They were both quiet after that; then, she set her plate down and took a drink from her beer.

“We also argue less,” she offered after a moment. “Even when we got along - even when we were together - we were always arguing.”

He huffed a laugh.

“It only took twenty years of us not speaking to one another.” There was a note bitterness in his voice that took him by surprise. “That was my fault, though.”

She shook her head at that, put her beer down and rested her hand across the back of the couch.

“That’s on both of us.” She reached across and grabbed his hand, squeezed it gently. “I’m glad that isn’t where we’re at any more, though.”

“Me too,” he replied, tried to ignore the sensation of warmth working its way across his chest at the simple fact that she had yet to remove her hand from his. He cleared his throat and tried to find a way to distract himself from it.

“Does Clarke know? About you and I?” He looked across the couch at her, glanced down at their hands resting lightly together, and suddenly felt like it was necessary to clarify. “Before, I mean. When we were younger.”

She nodded at him.

“She knows. I just told her recently.” She paused, then looked at him curiously. “What about Octavia and Bellamy?”

He huffed a laugh that was half embarrassment.

“They’ve known for...a while. Since the party at Jaha’s this last summer, actually.”

At her surprised expression, he continued.

“I...might have been nervous to see you again. And, well - you’ve met Octavia. She wouldn’t stop asking questions until I admitted why.”

She laughed, then stared at him with a look of pure delight on her face.

“Marcus Kane, nervous? I didn’t think anyone could have that effect on you.”

He shrugged and looked down at his beer.

“Not anyone can,” he said, then looked up at her and smiled. “Just you.”

He watched as a slow smile bloomed across her face, thought he saw the beginnings of a blush creeping up her neck. Before she could say anything, her phone buzzed loudly in the other room.

She sprang up from the couch and rushed over to it.  

He got up and grabbed their plates and bottles, and walked over to the kitchen.

“Clarke’s on her way home,” Abby said as he was clearing off their plates. “She just dropped Octavia off at home.”

He nodded and set the plates in the sink, felt suddenly awkward.

“Guess I should head out as well, then.”

She nodded and walked him to the door. He was still trying to figure out how to say goodbye or what he was supposed to do when he felt Abby’s hand on his. He turned to look at her, tried not to get distracted by her closeness.

“This was nice, Marcus. It was nice to have dinner and not have to worry about whether Clarke or Octavia were going to get a concussion.”

He smiled, cleared his throat in attempt to dissipate his sudden nervousness.

“Let’s do it again, sometime?”

She beamed up at him.

“I’d like that.”

* * *

 

He put his key in the lock, then realized the door was already unlocked and just turned the handle and pushed it open.

He heard a noise in the kitchen as soon as he entered, turned the corner and found Octavia sitting at the kitchen bar table, an open book in front of her. She looked up at him as soon as he entered and smiled slyly.

“Hey - I just needed to grab my calculus book. Then I realized you weren’t home and wondered why and figured I’d just wait around and ask you.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, looked between her and the clock.

“And how long ago was that?”

“Just twenty minutes ago. Don’t worry, I actually did some of the calc problems while I was waiting for you.”

He nodded.

“Good.”

“Yeah,” she said impatiently, “so…”

He raised his eyebrow and tilted his head questioningly, though he already knew where she was heading with her line of questioning.

She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily.

“Were you with Abby? I saw you walking her to her car when we were leaving the parking lot. And you would’ve been home, like, an hour ago if you had come straight here from the game.”

He sighed, then nodded slowly.

“I was with Abby.”

She smiled brightly at him, the happiness seeming to lift her up out of her chair.

“Ok, and...what happened? Tell me the details.” She paused and furrowed her brow. “Well, not, like, all the details if it’s gross.”

He huffed a laugh and shook his head.

“Nothing gross, Octavia. Her car battery died, so I just drove her home.”

“Ok, then?”

“What do you mean?”

Octavia huffed impatiently.

“Listen, you wouldn’t have just come home right now if you had just dropped her off. I know how far away they live and how long it would’ve taken you to get back here.”

He aimed an amused look at her, then looked away momentarily, suddenly hesitant.

“She invited me in for dinner - because we didn’t get a chance to finish it at the game. And so we ate dinner and just chatted. The way we usually do when we’re at the soccer games.”

He knew that last part wasn’t _exactly_ true, but wanted to keep those details to himself for now.

Octavia gave him a triumphantly giddy smile.

“Yeah, but you _weren’t_ at the game. You were at her house. At night. Alone.” She reached over and rested her hands on his shoulders. “That’s great, Kane! You’re making it happen!”

He didn’t comment on that, though he silently thought that he agreed with it. Instead, he squeezed her gently before setting his hands on her shoulders and gently stepped back from her.

“Octavia, why is it so important to you? If anything happens between Abby and me?”

She sighed, then looked down for a long moment before answering.

“Because I want you to be happy.”

“Octavia, I am happy.”

She sighed. “I know. But I feel like you deserve something more. I mean, I know you have me and Bell and Jaha and this job where everyone loves you. But it’d be nice if you had, you know, a person.”

“A person.”

“Yeah. Like, you’ve always tried to give me and Bell everything that all the other kids had, even though mom was...mom and you were pretty much just Bell’s coach for a while. And sometimes I feel...like you could’ve gone out and found someone if you hadn’t been so busy taking care of us.”

“Octavia, you know that having you and Bellamy in my life didn’t take anything away from it. It added to it.”

She looked down at her fingernails, flicked away an imaginary piece of lint on the top of her jeans.

“I know. But you’ve never really let anyone stick around, even though everyone agrees that you’re a catch.”

He raised his eyebrow at her statement.

She gave him an incredulous look.

“Oh, c’mon. You know that basically all of my friends’ moms have crushes on you?”

He frowned.

“Half of your friend’s moms are married.”

“Yeah, and? I’m not even going to mention how many of my _actual_ friends have crushes on you.”

“Thank you for that.”

“The point is, you’ve never really dated anyone. I mean, I know you were kind of serious with that one lady a few years ago but - how serious could it really have been if we didn’t really meet her? Abby’s the first person you’ve shown an interest in since forever and we already know her and like her. Plus, Clarke already approves.”

His eyebrows shot up.

“You’ve talked to Clarke about this?”

“Well, not like, hey my dad likes your mom and I’m pretty sure she likes him too what do you think about that...but, basically, yeah.”

He tipped his head to the side and lifted his hands up in front of him.

She sighed heavily.

“I mean, she really likes you already and, you know, I’ve really laid down the caring, awesome dad vibes real thick - you’re welcome, by the way - so she knows you’re a good guy outside of being a good teacher.”

He smiled at her, then shook his head and laughed.

“I appreciate that, Octavia.” He rocked back on his heels, then crossed his arms in front of him as he looked over at her seriously. “This is really important to you.”

She nodded.

“Well, you’re important to me.” She hopped off the chair and gave him another hug. “Just don’t get all caught up in twenty years ago, ok? Bellamy and I...we just want what’s good for you.”

“And Abby’s what’s good for me?”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

He laughed and squeezed her tightly.

“Yeah, I guess it is.”


	9. Casual closeness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’d been a shift in their relationship ever since the night they shared dinner at her house. It’s nothing too dramatic or breathtaking; the changes are almost so minute that only someone who was really paying would notice them.
> 
> So, of course, he has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update after two months! Thanks to anyone who is still following along!

_Game 14_

“How come mine doesn’t have any cucumbers?” Abby asked, leaning over and peering into his tupperware bowl.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Because you always leave about half of them uneaten, which means I have to eat more than I want to.”

She grinned up at him.

“That’s true.” She paused, her look shifting into something tender. “I’m always surprised at what you remember from when we were young.”

He’s tempted to say something truly saccharine and completely honest like, “I never forgot anything about you.”

He doesn’t, only looks at her and smiles. He thinks the words might shimmer in the air between them all the same, though, when a warm, shy smile creeps across her face.

There’d been a shift in their relationship ever since the night they shared dinner at her house. It’s nothing too dramatic or breathtaking; the changes are almost so minute that only someone who was really paying would notice them.

So, of course, he has.

He’s noticed the way they always sit close together, knees touching, even though the weather’s begun warming up. He’ll let his hand linger on hers or wrap his arm around her when she leans in to speak to him. She’ll lean over and pick at his food every time they watch the game, her head brushing up against him as she looks up at him and smiles cheekily.

It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once. 

* * *

_Game 16_

He leaned over and began gathering up the empty tupperware around them, storing them in his messenger bag.

“So, that was a pretty uneventful last game of the regular season,” Abby commented as she got up and stretched from her position next to him. “I hope game one of the finals is more exciting.”

He nodded, then sighed.

“You’ll have to tell me all about the first half.” At her puzzled look, he clarified. “St. Mary’s had to reschedule the game because their soccer field flooded, so now it’s the same day as one of mine. I won’t be able to make it until after halftime.”

She frowned, a look of disappointment crossing her features.

“That first half won’t be the same without you.”

He smiled.

“I’ll make sure to bring you an extra helping of gnocchi for dinner when I do get there to make up for it.”

She smiled, then reached over and squeezed him gently on the forearm.

“A man after my own heart.”

He clamped his mouth shut to keep himself from saying anything spectacularly cloying, instead letting his hand drift to the small of her back as he ushered them both down the stairs.

* * *

_Game 17_

Abby paused at the bottom of the bleachers, her eyes tracking something far across the field. After a moment, he felt her hand on his jacket, tugging him closer, before she gestured to the line of soccer players walking slowly from the field.

“So, who’s the boy with Octavia?”

He looked at where she was pointing and squinted, tried to make out the tall figure who was walking next to Octavia.

“He doesn’t go to our school, but I do recognize him.” He stared intently before it came to him. “He’s a senior at Hamilton. He plays Varsity basketball for them - that’s why I recognize him.”

Abby nodded.

“Ah, the rival school.” She glanced up at him. “So, do you like him?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, curious at her sudden interest.

“I do, actually. He’s consistently been one of the best players on that team, and he’s always the first one to try to break up any tension between our two schools. I wouldn’t mind having him on our team.” He paused for a moment as a glint lit up Abby’s eyes. “Why the sudden interest?”

She gave him a disbelieving look and tilted her head slightly in the direction of Octavia. He looked over and saw her lingering at the edge of the field, standing closely to the young man - Lincoln, his brain suddenly provided - her face tilted up towards him in a smile. As he watched, Lincoln reached over and brushed a hair back from Octavia’s face, tenderly tucking it behind her ear.

He furrowed his brow and looked away, not wanting to intrude any further on what seemed to be an increasingly private moment. He felt Abby’s eyes on him and turned to face her, angling his body away from where Octavia and Lincoln were standing across the field. He rested his arm along the top of the fence that they were leaning against and met Abby’s thoughtful expression with one of his own.

“I’m…glad,” he finally said after a moment. A soft smile slid across Abby’s face, though there was careful sort of interest in her eyes.

“Are you sure?” She asked. “You seem…pensive. Are you worried?”

He shook his head.

“No, Octavia’s more than capable of taking care of herself.” He chuckled quietly. “That’s pretty much been true since she was nine. Lincoln kept a fight from breaking out during the fourth quarter of last year’s tied championship game against us. He seems like a genuinely good kid.” He sighed and bit his lip, trying to pinpoint the churning in his heart. “I think I’m just a little hurt that she didn’t mention anything about it to me. I know I’m not really her dad, but…” He trailed off, unsure of what he meant to say.

Abby laughed quietly, a fond look in her eyes as she reached down wrap his hand in hers.

“Oh, Marcus. It’s because she sees you as her dad that she didn’t mention it. I imagine it’s awkward to tell your dad that you’re dating someone. She was probably waiting for you to mention it - I mean, it’s not like this is the first time he’s walked her to the bus.”

At his confused look, she threw her head back and laughed.

“You really haven’t noticed? He’s been at the last couple away games. I just got tired of waiting for you to bring it up.” She took in his confused expression one more time and grinned. “Now I realize it’s because you’ve been cluelessly unaware.”  

He laughed ruefully and nodded, though his inner voice pointed out that his cluelessness about who was walking Octavia to the bus stemmed from his hyper-awareness of his own after-game walks with Abby to her car.  

He felt her squeeze his hand and looked down at her, smiling at the amused look on her face.

“So, what should I do?” He asked, suddenly worried. “Bellamy was so wrapped up in taking care of Octavia and his mom that he never really dated in high school, so I don’t really know what to do in this situation.”

Abby smiled.

“None of us know what to do when our kids start dating. But I think a good first step is just asking her about it.”

He opened his mouth to launch into a flurry of questions that suddenly cropped up in his mind when he saw a shiver run up her spine.

He frowned, suddenly realizing that the sun had set completely and the temperature had dropped substantially. Abby was only wearing a thin cardigan over her blouse and he could see goosebumps raising up along her exposed wrist.

“Do you want my jacket?” He asked as he stepped away from the fence and turned towards the parking lot.

She shook her head.

“It’s just a short walk.” He saw her hesitate briefly before stepping in close to his side and wrapping her arm around his waist. She tipped her head up and smiled up at him. “But I will borrow some of your body warmth.”

He grinned and wrapped his arm around her shoulder as they began to walk towards the parking lot. There’s a thrill of excitement that launches itself up from the pit of his stomach every time he’s close to her like this, their casual intimacy somehow more meaningful and important and right than his last few relationships combined. He’s not sentimental or deluded enough to believe that it’s always or only ever been her, but more and more he’s beginning to think she’s the only one who’s ever actually mattered.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He shook himself out of his reverie, surprised to realize that they’d already reached her car.

“I was just thinking…” He said the words mostly to fill up the gap, to give himself time to formulate something other than what he was actually thinking. “That I’m happy you moved back here. It’s…nice to be back in each other’s lives.” A slow, tender smile blossomed across her features as she nodded in agreement. He smiled at her, warmth creeping out across his chest at the unfiltered look of affection in her eyes. His traitorous gaze dipped to her lips for a moment before a heavy raindrop landed directly in his eye, forcing him to shake his head and blink it away. He cleared his throat and stepped back from her, giving her another, more shaky, smile. “We should head out before we get stuck in a rainstorm. I’ll, uh, let you know how it goes with Octavia at the next game.”

She nodded slowly and turned to unlock her car. He turned towards his own car further down the row and was about to begin walking when he heard her call out his name. He turned back to face her, a questioning look in his eyes.

She bit her lip for a moment before she spoke.

“You know, the game’s not for another week and a half. You could always call me before then to let me know how it went.”

He blinked stupidly for a quick moment before he nodded, trying to keep a giddy grin from splitting his features.

“I’ll do that.”

She smiled brightly at him, though he thought he could see shyness lingering at the edges of it.

“I’ll talk to you soon, then?” A questioning lilt to end of her sentence.  

He grinned at her, hoping that the school-boy giddiness he was feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn’t too obvious.

“Definitely.”


	10. Grocery Store Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slow, surprised smile bloomed across her face. She looped her arm through his and rested her hand lightly on his wrist; leaned closely to him, her words teasing but her eyes warm and affectionate.
> 
> “I’m going to hold you to that, Marcus.”
> 
> He smiled at her. He meant his response to be light and joking, but was distracted by the nearness of her, the scent of honeysuckle lingering in her hair. His reply came out low and lingering instead.
> 
> “I’m looking forward to it.”  
> \----------------  
> Marcus freaks out, Abby calms him down.

He called her the next night.

“Marcus,” she said in greeting, her voice low and warm.

He meant to say hello, but the phrase that had been repeating in his mind for the last hour burst from his lips instead.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

There was a brief pause. Then -

“About…what exactly?”

He let out a long exhale.

“About Octavia. What do I say to her? How do I bring it up? I don’t want her to be afraid to tell me anything, but I also don’t know what I should disapprove of. I mean…” He breathed in deeply and shook his head, looking up at the sky in a silent plea. “Should I disapprove of anything? I’m not her father, I know that…but I also don’t want to see her get hurt…not that I don’t think she’s capable of handling herself - I already told you that - but relationships are hard and I don’t want to see her get hurt, even though -”

His words were cut short from a loud wail of a baby to his right.

Abby made a confused sound.

“Where…are you exactly?”

He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, resting his forearms on the bar of the shopping cart in front of him.

“I’m at the Trader Joe’s near Central. Octavia and Bellamy are coming over tonight for dinner, so I thought i’d just bring it up. Then I started thinking about how to bring it up and I realized I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.” He reached up and grabbed a jar of cookie butter before he continued. “Then, I called you because…” He paused awkwardly, trying to think of a good enough reason before settling on the truth. “Because I just wanted to. I thought that even if you couldn’t help me, I’d at least feel better just from hearing your voice.”

He said the last few words in a rush, already halfway regretting them as they were coming out. He briefly wondered if it was his panic or the fact that he couldn’t see her that made him  so momentarily brave.

“I’m glad you called,” she replied, her words soft and sincere. He imagined her smiling up at him as she said them. “I’m actually close by, so I’ll grocery shop with you and we’ll figure it out together.”

He sighed in relief.

“Alright. I’m in whatever aisle has cookie butter.”

“Perfect. We just ran out. I’ll see you in a sec.”

* * *

He was looking over his grocery list when he felt a tap his shoulder.

He looked up and saw Abby standing next to him, a grocery basket looped around her arm. He smiled, already feeling the tension slipping from his shoulders at the sight of her.

“So,” she began, reaching behind him and grabbing a jar of cookie butter, “have you remembered how to breathe again?”

He chuckled and scrubbed a hand through his beard as he shot her an apologetic look.

“Sorry about the rant. I’m…glad you’re here, though.”

She smiled at him.

“Me, too.” She peered over his shoulder at his grocery list. “What’s on the menu for tonight?”

He shrugged.

“Nothing too fancy. Balsamic and honey glazed chicken with quinoa. Cookie butter truffles for dessert.”

Abby burst out laughing.

“Yeah, there’s definitely nothing fancy about the words glazed and truffles.”

He ducked his head and grinned at her.

“It only sounds impressive because…”

“It _is_ impressive,” she finished up for him, a look of mirth sliding across her features. “I’d like to try some of those truffles sometime. I think I once ate a whole jar of Cookie Butter on my own.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You think, or you know?”

She grinned and bumped him with her shoulder. They walked a little down the aisle. He was mostly done with his shopping, needing only two more items in the next aisle over. He wasn’t sure how much or little Abby might need - she mostly seemed to grab at things randomly, without referring to a list of any sort.  When they turned into the next aisle, she looked over at him expectantly.

“So, Octavia.”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know what I’m doing. And I’m worried and, I don’t know, confused as to why she didn’t bring it up to me. Octavia’s terrible at keeping secrets and, to my knowledge, she never really has from me. Maybe she doesn’t want me to know. And if that’s the case, maybe I shouldn’t ask her?”

She shook her head at him.

“You said she’s never dated anyone before, right?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Well, then she probably doesn’t know how to bring it up with you, either. Octavia’s fearless, but that doesn’t mean she automatically knows how to talk about her boyfriend with her father.”

“I’m not, though.” At her confused expression, he clarified. “I’m not her father. She doesn’t need to worry that I’m going to ground her or forbid her from seeing Lincoln.” He snorted, an amused look crossing his face. “Not that she’d likely listen even if I were and I did.”

She turned to face him fully and tilted her head, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“You’re their father in every way that matters.” She nudged him gently. “I remember that’s one of the first things Bellamy ever said about you.” She looked at him for a long moment before continuing. “Octavia is probably just as lost and confused as you are, which means you’ll need to take the lead. So, tell me this: what do you want her to know?”

He thought for a moment.

“I want her to know that she can tell me anything - that I want her to be able to tell me anything. That I’m absolutely okay with whatever’s going on between her and Lincoln. And that as long as she’s happy, I’m happy.”

She smiled at him, a soft, tender thing.

“Then say just that, Marcus. Octavia likes being direct, so be direct with her. As long as you’re honest and open, she will be, too.”

He nodded, thinking over her words and what he might say later on to Octavia. As they passed the produce section, he reached over absently and deposited a bag of apples into her basket.

At her raised eyebrow, he shrugged.

“Honeycrisp. They’re still your favorite, right?”

She nodded and smiled at him.

“Is this so I’ll stop eating your apple slices when we’re at the game?”

He shook his head.

“No, I always cut more than I can eat so you can have some.” He pointed to her basket. “I just thought you might need actual fresh food in addition to all your frozen meals and jars of Cookie Butter.”

She laughed and dug her elbow into his side.

“Hey, not all of us can be master chefs.” She stopped and placed a hand over her heart, a look of mock horror on her face. “I just now realized that the season’s over in the next three weeks. I won’t get to have your amazing dinners twice a week any more.”

He furrowed his brow for a moment - he hadn’t thought of it, either. Then, he smiled at her, took in a sharp intake of breath for courage before he spoke.

“I’ll just invite you over for dinner, instead. We can actually eat the food warm, like God and Julia Child intended.”

A slow, surprised smile bloomed across her face. She looped her arm through his and rested her hand lightly on his wrist; leaned closely to him, her words teasing but her eyes warm and affectionate.

“I’m going to hold you to that, Marcus.”

He smiled at her. He meant his response to be light and joking, but was distracted by the nearness of her, the scent of honeysuckle lingering in her hair. His reply came out low and lingering instead.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

* * *

_Later that night_

Octavia rolled her eyes.

“Just ask, Kane.”

He started, then glanced warily at her before focusing once more on the dishes.

“Ask what?”

“Whatever it is that makes you keep looking at me with that weird, worried look on your face.”

He huffed a laugh and set down the rag he was holding before leaning back on the counter in what he hoped was a casual stance. He cycled through a dozen different variations of the question in his mind before a ragged half-question emerged.

“So. Lincoln?”

Octavia paused as she ran a dish under the stream of water. She very pointedly kept her focus on the dish in her hand.

“What about him?”

He cleared his throat and crossed his arms in front of them. He looked down for a moment and worried that he might look upset, so he uncrossed his arms and set his elbows back on the counter behind him instead.

“What’s…are you…I, uh, I saw you two walking to the bus after yesterday’s soccer game.” He looked closely at her to see her reaction and continued on when he couldn’t quite read the expression on her face. “I know him. From basketball. He seems like a good person.” She stopped washing the dish and turned to stare at him fully. He could feel panic beginning to line the edges of his thoughts. “Not that you need me to tell you that, I’m sure you know that already.” He cleared his throat and tried to get his thoughts out. “I just wanted you to know that I saw you two walking and if you’re dating, that’s ok with me. Not that you need it to be ok with me or need my approval - you definitely don’t - but.” He shook his head, frustrated with himself, and sighed before smiling at her. “Basically, whatever is going on with you and Lincoln, I’m happy if it makes you happy.”

She chewed on her lip and looked down, wringing the sponge in her hand before looking back up at him with an expression of worry on her face.

”I wasn’t trying to hide it from you or anything. It’s still kinda new, but…I don’t know. I mean, I was gonna to bring it up earlier, but I didn’t really know how to. And then when he started coming to the games and you didn’t say anything, I thought maybe -.” She shrugged and looked away for a moment before glancing back over at him, uncertain and unguarded. “Maybe you just didn’t care.”

He blinked rapidly, Abby’s words from before ringing in his ears. He reached over and put her a hand on her shoulder.

“Octavia, of course I care.” He smiled at her and squeezed her shoulder before continuing. “Honestly, I didn’t even notice him until yesterday and even then, it was actually Abby who brought it up. ” He looked over at her sheepishly, though he knew admitting it would thrill her. “I guess you could say I’ve been a little distracted at the games.”

Just as he anticipated, a brilliant smile lit up Octavia’s face.

“Distracted, huh?” She said, knocking her shoulder into his. She looked like she was about to say more, but then shook her head and looked over at him shyly instead.

“So, you’re okay with everything? I mean, me and Lincoln?”

He smiled at her and nodded.

“I’m 100% okay with it. Like I said, I’m happy if you’re happy.” He glanced over at her. “You should invite him to dinner soon.”

A look that could only be described as mortified came over her face.

“Oh my God, Kane. We _just_ started dating. We’re nowhere near the meet the parents phase of things.”

He held up his hands in front of him.

“Ok, ok. I just wanted to let you know that the option was on the table.”

She nodded. Then, a sly look crawled along her face.

“So, it’s happening, isn’t it? You and Abby? You guys are always practically in each other’s laps at the games and I know you’ve been walking her to her car after every game.”  

He spluttered before clearing his throat and picking the dish out of her hands; he set himself to drying it before he answered.

“We are not practically in each other’s laps.” He looked at her sternly as he said the words, was met only with a giddy look of teasing. He sighed, but couldn’t help the smile that creeped across his lips. “But yes, things have been…different, since that night I dropped her off at her house.”

“Different-good though, right?”

He nodded, tried to keep himself from looking too foolishly pleased.

“Definitely.”


	11. Hospital Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia gets a concussion and gives Abby a history lesson. Abby and Kane come to an understanding about their past and their future.

_Currently_

He checked his rearview mirror and pressed down on the gas pedal, the speedometer slowly rising to 75.

His phone dinged next to him. He looked down at the short message from Bellamy -

She should be ok I think, but they’re going to do an MRI to make sure. We’re in room 207.

He sighed with relief but kept his foot heavy on the gas pedal. The reasonable part of his brain pointed out that a concussion wasn’t the worst thing in the world. The louder, more frantic part - the side that made sure Octavia ate well and got enough sleep and worried about her propensity at getting detention - couldn’t help the mounting feeling of anxiety and frustration at the fact that he had just so happened to miss the one game that ended with her in the hospital.

* * *

_Earlier_

“Is she going to be ok?”

Abby looked over at Bellamy in her passenger seat, saw the tension lining the muscles of his body.

She gave him a reassuring smile

“She should be, but she needs to stay awake until we get to the hospital. Just keep her talking.”

Bellamy snorted and looked at Abby wryly.

“That shouldn’t be very hard.”

“Hey, I have a concussion,” Octavia interjected from the back seat. “I’m not deaf.”

Even though her voice was sharp, Abby could see Octavia’s eyelids drooping heavily.

Bellamy reached behind him to nudge Octavia’s knees.

“O! Stay awake!”

She glared at him, though the effect was somewhat lessened by the semi-glazed look in her eyes.

“Well, you’re so boring that it’s hard to.”

Abby cleared her throat to avoid smiling at that and reached back to tap Octavia on the knee.

“Octavia - tell me your favorite memory. What happened, who was there, why it’s your favorite. Anything you can remember about it.”

She was quiet for a moment, then leaned forward and rested her forearms on the armrest between Abby and Bellamy. It probably wasn’t the safest position, but her seatbelt was still on and it seemed to center her, make her slightly more aware and awake.

“I don’t know if it’s my favorite. But - the day that we moved into the townhouse. You remember that, Bell?”

He nodded, his eyes going soft at the memory.

“I remember.”

“I was so excited. It was so clean and bright and there were windows everywhere. And I was going to have my own room - not just a closet that I pretended was my room.”

Bellamy laughed; it was a faint, wistful noise.

“I remember you couldn’t get over the skylights. You’d stand under them and just stare up. You said it made you feel like an angel.”

Octavia nodded.

“They’re still my favorite part of the whole place.”

Abby looked over at the both of them and smiled, a soft look of tenderness in her eyes.

“How old were you when you moved in?” She asked, eyes flitting over to Bellamy.

“I’d just turned seventeen. Octavia was eleven going on twelve. We - ”

“Kane bought the townhouse next door to him - did you know that, Abby?” Octavia broke in, a questioning look in her eyes. Abby shook her head, unsure of the relation of the question to the story. Octavia smiled as she continued on. “He bought it just for us - so we could have a safe place of our own - even though you’ll never hear him admit to it. He always just says that it was a good investment. He’s never made us pay rent. The only real fight he and Bellamy ever got into was over paying rent.”

Bellamy looked down, flicked an invisible piece of lint from his jeans.

“I felt guilty at the fact that he had two mortgages. Then he just admitted that he’d just bought it outright with cash, so there wasn’t a mortgage. I don’t know where he got the money - I don’t think he makes that much at Xavier.”

“Marcus has always been good with his money - even back when we were kids,” Abby said. “And I know he made a pretty good living as an attorney for a while, which I doubt he actually ever spent.” She bit her lip and thought for a moment. “Though, he did apparently  have a Corvette while he was an attorney…”

Octavia’s eyes widened as she looked over at Bellamy, who looked equally surprised.

“No shit,” Octavia said, not even bothering to feign embarrassment at the curse word. “Kane in a Corvette - it’s, like, bizarre to think about. I can’t even picture it.”

Abby nodded.

“He was…a different person at that point in his life.”

Octavia huffed a laugh.

“He always says he was an asshole.”

Abby laughed quietly and nodded.

“I won’t dispute that.”

Octavia grinned at her before she leaned back in her seat. Abby glanced back in the rearview mirror, saw that she was resting her head against the headrest with her eyes closed.

“So, why do you think that memory’s so important to you?”

Octavia opened her eyes and caught Abby’s gaze in the mirror.

“Did Kane ever tell you what it was like for us growing up - with our mom?” Abby shook her head. Octavia and Bellamy looked at each other before she continued. “Right before we moved into the townhouse, I used to be terrified that we’d move somewhere far, away from Kane. I mean, before we met him, we were constantly moving. Mom would lose her job or lose a boyfriend or just generally lose her shit, and we’d just pick up and go to the next crappy little apartment. I must’ve gone to ten different schools before I was seven.”

She stopped for a long moment, so long that Abby was afraid she’d fallen asleep. She looked over at both of them - Bellamy peering out the window, Octavia lost in some sad memory - and felt her heart ache with sympathy.

Octavia cleared her throat and shook her head gingerly before leaning back forward.

“But anyway, sometime around 3rd grade, she kind of got it together for a while. Mom was still…mom. I mean, she was seriously such a hot mess. But she managed to hold down a job and we stayed in the same place for a while. That was the year that Bellamy had Kane as a teacher and as a coach and…I guess it must’ve been obvious that our home life was basically a pile of shit, because he started making sure that we were alright.”

“What’d he do?” Abby asked. The last fifteen years of Marcus’s life were a veritable black hole to her, the two of them separated by too much bitterness and distance. Still, she could recollect Thelonious telling her about the Blake siblings years ago, though she hadn’t realized the extent of their relationship until she had moved back.

Octavia smiled at her, her expression going soft at the pleasant childhood memories born out of bleakness.

“During basketball season, I’d be in the gym and Kane’d let me hold the clipboard or the stopwatch - .”

“Only after she’d finished her homework,” Bellamy interjected, a smile on his face.

Octavia nodded, then grinned

“Yup, which is the reason that was the first year I actually started doing my homework.” She huffed a laugh before continuing. “If it wasn’t basketball season, I’d just wait in his classroom for Bellamy. He’d help me with my homework and he always made sure I ate a snack - something healthy like apples or carrot sticks. Then, when Bellamy was out of practice, he’d get us both dinner and walk us home. It was the only time I ever felt like I had a normal life.”

“He always taught summer school and started a summer athletics program.” Bellamy added, turning his attention away from the window and looking over at Abby. “Just so Octavia and I would have a place to go during the summer.”

Octavia looked at Abby and took a deep breath.

“I hated having to go home. Bellamy never asked, but I used to beg almost every day not to go home.”

Bellamy drummed his fingers on the armrest, glanced over at Abby and then looked back down at his fingernails.

“It’s not that I wanted to go home,” he began, then sighed. “Mom was. Well, she was mom,” he finished up, as though she still defied explanation. He caught Octavia’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “But I could already see how hard it was on Kane to have to drop us off there every night. And there wasn’t really anything he could do - it’s not like some grown man can just stash two kids in his home and not have everyone think he’s an absolute creep.”

“Well, I know that now, Bell. But back then all I wanted was for him to adopt us.”

“He couldn’t, though,” Bellamy commented, heading off Abby’s next question. “Or he couldn’t in a way that was easy. Believe me, I looked into it. Mom never would’ve  terminated her parental rights.”  

“She pretty much terminated them when she started working downtown,” Octavia ground out, her eyes flashing angrily. She turned to Abby. “She’d disappear for days, sometimes weeks at a time. Then she’d just blow back in like nothing was the matter.”

“Do you still see her?” Abby asked.

Octavia shrugged, though there was a hard look on her face.

“A few months after we moved in next to Kane, Bellamy turned 18 and got legal guardianship of me. I’ve seen her about once a year since then.”

Abby looked down and wrapped Octavia’s clenched fist in her hand, squeezed it gently to reassure her. She glanced over at Bellamy, his face shuttered and weary.

She felt Octavia squeeze her hand.

“Sorry to bring the mood down,” Octavia said, an apologetic look to her that Abby waved away. “It, uh, doesn’t even really matter any more anyway. We have Kane and he’s a way better parent than she ever was.”

Abby smiled at her.

“I’m glad you two and Marcus have one another, then. You two are good for him.”

Octavia gave her a long, searching look, then smiled.

“So are you, Abby.”

* * *

_Now_

“Marcus!”

He turned and saw Abby walking towards him from the end of the hall. Immediately, he felt his anxiety crawl back down his spine and settle as a dull tingling in his stomach. He released his pent up frustration in one long sigh as he walked towards her.

“Hey, is she ok?” He asked without preamble.

She nodded, stepping close to him as she reached forward and wrapped her hands around his.

“They just took her to get an MRI, so she should be back in an hour or so. It’s a pretty severe concussion though, so they want to keep her overnight to observe her. I sent Bellamy out to get some food since neither of us had your delicious leftovers during the game.”

He breathed in slowly and nodded.

“Thank you for getting her here and taking care of her and just…being here.”

She squeezed his hand and nudged him with her shoulder.

“Of course, Marcus.” She peered up at him. “Are you alright?”

He released a sharp breath.

“Yeah, just upset that I wasn’t there when she got hurt.” He rocked back on his heels and tried to smile at her, though he felt his face twist into a grimace instead. “And, uh, hospitals put me on edge.”

Abby nodded, then interlaced her fingers with his and tugged him towards the direction of Octavia’s room. He was glad to be with someone who didn’t need an explanation for his aversion to hospitals. After all, she’d been right next to him every time he’d sat at his mother’s bedside during her long battle with cancer.

Almost every time, he amended silently as they settled into two chairs in the hospital room. His mother’s final relapse and death he’d faced alone, rejecting Abby’s presence out of childish spite and bitterness.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you lost her,” she said softly, her eyes wide with regret. He started in surprise, replayed the previous moment to make sure he hadn’t spoken aloud.

She squeezed his hand.

“You always get a certain look when you’re thinking about her. And being here in the hospital…I know it brings up a lot of bad memories.”

He huffed and shook his head, glanced over at her before staring down at their intertwined hands.

“You have nothing to apologize for. You wanted to be there for me. I was just too much of an asshole to let you in.”

They were quiet for a long moment. Then, Abby nudged him gently with her shoulder.

“So, I had a pretty nice chat with Bellamy and Octavia on the way to the hospital.”

He looked over at her and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah?”

A smile unfolded across her features.

“First, I got a nice history lesson.” She squeezed his hand, her smile going soft and tender at the edges. “You’ve really been amazing with them, Marcus.”

He smiled back at her.

“Well, they’re great kids.” He shrugged. “And honestly, I haven’t really done much.”

She shot him a skeptical look.

“Helping them get into Xavier, paying all of Octavia’s medical bills when she broke her leg, buying them a house?” She tilted her head at him, a wry expression on her face. “I wouldn’t exactly say that isn’t much.”

He huffed and grinned at her.

“Well, when you say it like that…” He laughed, then chewed on his lip for a long, quiet moment. “They deserve it,” he finally said, the only explanation he could give.

Abby nodded and they sat quietly, comfortable in each other’s presence. Then, a thought skittered across his awareness.

“So, what was the second thing?” He asked, turning slightly to face her.

“What do you mean?”

“You said that first you got a history lesson,” he clarified, tilting his head at her to catch her gaze. “What was the second thing?”

He saw her hesitate. She looked away from him and focused on hands, pressed the pad of her fingertips into the indentations between his knuckles one by one.

“Those two love you so much, you know that?” She finally said, glancing over at him. “All they want is for you to be happy.”

He nodded slowly, his heart suddenly thumping painfully in his chest.

“Octavia seems to think…” She looked away from him, though he could see a flush creeping up her neck. “She said that you’ve been happier these last few months.”

He swallowed thickly, then nodded. His heart was beating so loudly he was sure she could hear it, but the rest of him felt calm and steady.

“She’s right, you know. You’ve always been good for me. And to me.” He looked at her intently. “I just spent a long time being too stupid to realize it. Or appreciate it.” He shook his head, replaying back their last, terrible fight - the cruel things he’d said to her ringing out in his mind.

She shook her head and reached over to brush her fingertips across his cheek.

“Don’t. I forgave you for all that a long time ago, Marcus,” she said quietly, looked up at him with a tenderness that made him inhale sharply in longing. “We were both young and stupid.” She shrugged, then tilted her head and smiled at him. “That isn’t who we are any more. We get to start over.”

He trailed his thumb along the underside of her palm. He looked at her for a long moment, for once unembarrassed and unafraid at the affection he knew lined his expression. He took a deep breath, gave voice to a hope he’d thought he’d squandered long ago .

“So I get a second chance?”

He watched as a slow smile bloomed across her face, warm and open and sincere.

“We both get one.”


	12. (Not) a dinner date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blake siblings and Marcus prepare for a dinner that's definitely not a date...right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you can remember all the way back to Chapter 7 - which, why the hell would you, it was literally seven months ago - these past five chapters of soccer season stuff have all just been one giant flashback. I honestly didn’t mean for the soccer season flashback to span five chapters and seven whole months, but it did because I’m the worst. However, we’re back to the present day timeline, in which Marcus and the Blakes are getting ready for Abby and Clarke to come over for dinner. To the dedicated still following this story, thanks so much for bearing with me

“Everything ok?” Octavia asked, waving a hand in front of his face.

He blinked and shook his head, drawing himself out of his thoughts.

“Just…thinking about what you said about the soccer season,” he replied, shrugging good naturedly. “Seeing Abby three times a week was…” He trailed off, trying to define exactly what it was. A way to relive the past even as they both moved past it. An opportunity to rebuild what he once thought had been irrevocably broken.

A path to a future he could no longer deny he wanted, desperately. A future he now believed he actually might have.

He thought back to their conversation in the hospital three days ago - the feel of her hand in his, the warm, slow smile as she spoke of second chances. A phrase that filled him with unbearable hope even as it terrified him. He had walked away from his first chance at happily ever after. And now he was here again, faced with an improbable second one.

He had spent countless hours since then wondering at all he might do to ensure that he didn’t squander it; had spent an equal number of hours imagining scenarios in which he did.

He turned to Octavia with a pensive look on his face.

“It was good for me,” he finally said. “It was good for us.” He smiled at Octavia’s look of delight. “And I do think you’re probably right about it being the reason she’s coming here tonight. ”

Octavia’s face split into a big grin as Bellamy groaned loudly at the end of the counter.

“Great. You know how often she’s going to bring that up for the next month?”

Octavia turned to Bellamy, an incredulous look on her face.

“The next month?” She scoffed, then turned to Marcus with a wide smile, “try everyday until you two get married - and then I’ll also bring it up at your wedding.”

“Octavia,” he warned, shaking his head at her. When she simply continued grinning at him, he sighed. “I’m going to chalk up the increase in wedding jokes to the fact that you very recently had a concussion and don’t know what you’re saying.”

She huffed, then smirked at him.

“You’re right - all wedding talk should be tabled until we can see if you can actually ask her out to dinner.”

He shook his head.

“She’s coming to dinner right now.”

Octavia rolled her eyes.

“I mean a dinner date. This doesn’t count.”

“How does this not count?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, even as a part of him yelled out in agreement to her words. Truthfully, he wasn’t exactly sure why he’d invited her to their regularly scheduled Tuesday night dinner rather than a Friday night date. The sentimental part of him wanted it to be because Friday was too far away to see her. The practical side of him pointed out that he’d been overrun with anxiety and had blurted out Tuesday night before stopping to think about it.

The truth was probably somewhere in the middle.

“Uh, it can’t count because Octavia and I are both here, for one,” Bellamy said from the opposite side of the counter.

“And your chicken has an absurd amount of garlic in it, for another,” Octavia added.

“It’s a normal amount of garlic,” he muttered, though he frowned as he said it. Then, he exhaled loudly. “Not that the amount of garlic in my chicken matters.”

“You think that now,” Bellamy interjected quietly, a troubling glint of mischief in his eyes.

“I don’t even understand why you haven’t asked her out yet,” Octavia said before he could follow up Bellamy’s statement. He turned to her and saw her shake her head at him, exasperated. “God, it’s like we have to do everything for you.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“What on earth does that mean?”

She pressed her lips together tightly as a sly look passed over her features. She cleared her throat and avoided his gaze, glancing over at Bellamy who was trying, and failing miserably, to keep a straight face.

Before he could prod either of them, the doorbell rang out.

He sighed. Perhaps he hadn’t been able to escape the Blake’s combined conspiracy after all.

With that thought in mind, he gave a stern look to both of them. Octavia merely smiled brightly up at him, eyes wide and innocent. He nearly snorted at that, huffed a laugh when Bellamy actually did.

Octavia only wore that look when she was already knee deep in whatever bit of mischief she had concocted.

He smoothed down his shirt and ran a hand through his hair before heading out of the kitchen. He heard a flurry of movement the moment he crossed the threshold but was too preoccupied on the beating of his heart to turn around and look.

He stopped in front of the door and took a deep breath.

Get it together, he scolded himself. He had eaten dinner with Abby countless numbers of times, the two of them huddled together over open Tupperware in their laps. This was no different, despite the intimacy of eating in his home. In fact, it was decidedly less intimate than the entirety of soccer season had been, what with the combined presence of Bellamy, Clarke and Octavia.  

Which, he suddenly realized, was perhaps why he’d suggested it in the first place. As much as he wanted a new beginning with Abby, he was struck by the fact that he wasn’t quite sure how to get there. They had begun a slow, plodding crawl toward something over the last few months. A friendship, sure, but with an undercurrent of affection that he at first had thought was only an echo of the past, then only felt from his side of things.

But she had offered him - them - a new beginning, hadn’t she? A talk of second chances could be nothing but that. She hadn’t been exactly explicit in her feelings for him, but he had seen the unmasked tenderness in her eyes, felt the warmth and affection through her fingertips. That was all but an outright admission.

Wasn’t it?

He snorted and shook his head at the entire ridiculous train of thought. What was he looking for - a handwritten note that said, “Do you like me, check yes or no”?

The doorbell rang out again, jarring him out of his anxiety driven downward spiral.

“Kane!” Octavia’s voice rang out, loud and impatient. “Are you going to actually let her in or just stare at the door?”

He cleared his throat and exhaled forcefully, deliberately breaking away from his train of thought. There’d be plenty of time for useless discourse later. For now, all he had to do was enjoy an easy night in with Abby.  

He smoothed his features into something warm and welcoming before opening the door and greeting Abby with a smile. He took the proffered bottle of red wine that she held out to him. Then, he tilted his head in confusion when he realized that she was alone.

“No Clarke?” He asked.

She shook her head and gave him an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry - she got called into some sort of emergency Student Government issue. Something to do with prom, I think.”

“It isn’t for another month and a half though,” he said, furrowing his eyebrow.

Abby shrugged, though there was the beginnings of a skeptical look on her face.

“I may have misheard…”

The expression on her face made him think it was unlikely, but he let it go. Instead, he opened the door widely and stepped back, sweeping his arm in front of him in welcoming gesture.

Abby stepped through the doorway and looked approvingly around the room. 

“This place looks like you.” She smiled at the picture of him and the Blake siblings that was perched on the far end of the entrance table. “Whatever you made smells delicious, Marcus.” She looked up at him, a warm glow of affection in her eyes. “Finally, I get to have your cooking right out of the oven, for once.”

He smiled sheepishly at that and ducked his head.

“Guess I should’ve invited you over sooner.”

She shrugged, then smiled at him.

“We’re here now.”

The low burn of her voice made him desperately wish he actually had kept the dinner invitation private, just between the two of them.

Before he could reply, he heard his back door shut.

He furrowed his brows in confusion and walked over to the kitchen with Abby trailing behind him. He looked around, narrowing his eyes at the suddenly dimmer lighting in the room. He raised an eyebrow at Octavia, who was lingering next to the back door with an affected look of innocence in her face.

“Was that Bellamy?” He asked when he realized that Octavia was the only one standing in the kitchen.

The kitchen that suddenly seemed dimmer than it had been a few minutes ago. The kitchen that now featured an arrangement of flowers in the middle of the table and lit candles that he knew had not been there previously.

Octavia nodded, a look that was smug but trying to hide it stretched across her features.

“Emergency at work - he had to switch shifts with Nathan, so he needs to skip out on dinner.”

Marcus folded his arms in front of him.

“Emergency, huh?” He asked, leveling a skeptical look at Octavia. He glanced over at Abby, who had a similar look on her face.

“I guess there are a lot of those going around,” she commented drily.

Octavia nodded and looked to the ground, her hands suddenly coming up to rest on her temples.

“And actually - I’m really sorry to flake out, but I’m getting a pretty bad headache.” She rubbed her hand across her eyes before looking up at both of them, a pitiful expression in her dark brown eyes. Only the quirk of her mouth gave her away - and only because Marcus was looking for it. “And you know what the doctor said - I should try and lay down any time I get one…so, that’s what I’m going to go do.”

She all but ran out of the back door, shutting it firmly behind her before he could say anything to stop her.

He wasn’t sure whether to laugh out loud or groan aloud with embarrassment. Octavia had never been known for being subtle, but even this seemed like a bit much. The fact that she had somehow wrangled both Bellamy and Clarke into her plotting was especially surprising - though, he reflected, perhaps not a bad sign altogether.

Abby turned to him, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I have a vague feeling we’re being set up,” she said conspiratorially.

He snorted and raised an eyebrow.

“What’s vague about it?”

She laughed, the sound filling up the room with the twinkling warmth. She rocked back on her heels slightly before glancing up at him with a smile.

“Honestly…I can’t say that I really mind it,” she said, her voice quiet but in no way uncertain.  

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and smiled at her, wide and open and relieved.

“Yeah, I can’t say I do either.”


	13. (Unofficial) dinner date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby was leaning against his balcony wall, their wine glasses resting on the ledge in front of her. She turned and smiled at him as he came towards her, the moonlight catching on the gesture and lighting up her face. She locked eyes with him, a look of heat and want in them that made him want to stand still and rush towards her.
> 
> He was abruptly confronted by the fact that he didn’t want to wait to kiss her. That he had wanted to kiss her for weeks, for months now. Since that night of that rained out game, and every single moment since. He had spent years wondering what might have been, months tormented over what might be. And now - in this moment - he thought: why not now?

Quiet settled between them, a simmering quality just underneath it; the tension in the air filled in the empty gaps where Bellamy and Octavia had just been.

So much for an easy night in, he thought to himself. He tried to quell his nervousness by looking around the room, which now had the unmistakeable air of a romantic night in. Though he supposed he should at least be thankful in the fact that the room was romantic without being too obvious or sentimental about it. The dimness of the room was offset by the lit candles on the table and the countertop, the arrangement neither overblown or ostentatious. The Blake siblings hadn’t had time to switch out the dinnerware to his nicer, substantially more ornate, set - thank God for small miracles there - but they had set out real linen in place of the disposable napkins he’d initially had. Laying next to one of the napkins was a single blush colored peony, taken, he assumed, from the arrangement of them in the middle of the table.

The flower was Abby’s favorite kind - an offhand fact he’d randomly mentioned to Octavia weeks ago. He’d thought it a strange question then, but remembered being more surprised that he’d still been able to list the flower after decades apart.

He caught Abby looking at the flowers, her mouth turning up in a soft smile. A rush of emotions flooded his veins - an odd mix of apprehension, exasperation and gratitude towards Bellamy and Octavia. He felt caught between wanting to laugh and wanting to duck away in embarrassment.

He did neither. Instead, he breathed out sharply in an attempt to clear out his nervousness, then cleared his throat. When Abby looked back at him, he gestured towards the table.

“So, uh, shall we?”

She nodded, a smile still tracing the edges her mouth, then pointed to the bottle of wine in his hand.

“If you can direct me to a corkscrew, I can pour us wine while you fix our plates.”

“Deal,” he said, handing her the bottle of wine then rummaging through a drawer, grateful for the distraction. The low lighting and candlelight brought out the golden sheen of her hair and he was having a hard time concentrating on anything but his desire to run his hands through it.

He shuffled around the miscellaneous kitchen implements and tools far longer than necessary before turning around and handing her his wine corkscrew.  Then, he all but leaped away from her, walking over to the table to grab their plates while she busied herself with the wine. He pulled the chicken and vegetables out of the oven and began portioning it out onto the plates.

“If that looks as good as it smells, I’m about to be a very happy girl,” Abby said as she looked over at the food.

He grinned.

“I haven’t even shown you the best part of dinner,” he said, setting down the plates and uncovering the pot of mac and cheese that was on the stove.

She gasped, her eyes glittering with genuine excitement.

“Just when I thought the meal couldn’t get any better,” she said, peering over his shoulder and smelling the mac and cheese. She turned and smiled at him. “Although, I will have to say that the best part of dinner is just the company.”

He smiled.

“Even better than the mac and cheese?”

She nodded.

“Definitely.” She leaned over and began scooping the mac and cheese onto the two plates on the counter. “Though the mac and cheese is a very close second.”

He huffed a small laugh.

“I’ll just work at being extra good company tonight to make sure that I retain my number one status.”

She smiled at that, then picked up the two glasses of wine and headed to the table. He grabbed the plates and followed her, setting down the plate with the larger portion of mac and cheese next to the place setting that had the peony.

“These are my favorite flower,” she said quietly, setting down the glasses of wine on the table before picking up the flower next to her napkin.

“I know,” he said, watching her brush her fingers against the petals. He smiled when she looked up at him, his nervousness sliding back when he saw the open affection in her eyes. He walked around to her and pulled her chair out, waited for her to settle in comfortably before making his way to his own side.

He sat down and clasped his wine glass tightly in his hand. The silence thick and heavy around them.

He cleared his throat, looking for a way to fill it. Really, looking for any way to distract himself from the desire thrumming in his veins.

“So - a toast?” He said, the words coming out of his mouth before he realized that he had absolutely no idea what he wanted to toast to.

She smiled and nodded, lifting her own glass up. He met her gaze, her eyes close enough for him to pick up the golden flecks that reflected in the candlelight. He was momentarily and completely struck by how extraordinary this all really was - him and Abby Griffin, swathed in candlelight, about to sit down for a quiet meal in. It was a reality that had played out time and again in his twenties, and one he’d long had to accept could never be again, no matter how much he might’ve wished it.

Or so he’d thought.

He smiled at her, the words suddenly blaring sharply into his mind.

“To second chances,” he said, lifting his glass in her direction.

She smiled brightly back at him.

“To second chances,” she echoed, clinking her glass against his before taking a long drink of wine.

They both set down their glasses, and he picked up his utensils, cutting into his chicken and taking a large bite. They ate quietly and quickly, the minutes ticking by as the food on his plate quickly disappeared.

“So,” she began, her tone casual and her hands empty, “no kids, dinner and wine.” She tilted her head at him and smiled, though he detected a nervous edge to the gesture. “Does that make this a date?”

He nearly choked on the chicken in his mouth, just barely managed to cover up the sound by picking up his wine and taking a long drink. He swallowed the remainder of the food down painfully before setting his glass down and looking up at her.

“I guess it is,” he said slowly, trying to gauge her reaction. When she didn’t say anything, he rushed on. “I mean if - if that’s what you want.”

She tapped her fingers against the table and looked away from him for a moment before meeting his glance again.

“Well - I mean - ,” she paused and bit her lip, then continued on, “if that’s what you want.”

He stared at her - saw the uncertain bent of her mouth, the tight look of worry around her eyes -  then started laughing. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the opposing desires of wanting to bury his head in hands and wanting to reach across the table and kiss Abby.

He blinked rapidly and shook his head, trying to clear that line of thinking. It wasn’t new by any means, but it normally didn’t present itself so clearly and aggressively in his thought process. He crossed his arms in front of him, a smile still on his lips.  

“Oh my god, are we really doing this?”

She grinned at him and leaned forward in her chair, resting her elbows on the table.

“This, as in acting like a two teenagers on their first date or this,” she gestured between the two of them, “as in you and me, two adults having a long-awaited date together?”

He reached across the table and wrapped his hand around hers, his nervousness mostly wiped clean by the brightness of her smile.

“Well, I’d like it to be the latter, but it does seem like we’re firmly in the former category.” He toyed with her hand, running his thumb across her knuckles, before looking up at her with a rueful smile. “It’s silly, right? It’s not like this is the first time we’ve had dinner together on our own. I mean,” he said after a moment, wanting to clarify, “it’s basically just been the two of us together since we soccer season started.”  

She squeezed his hand.

“True. But this - it’s, well. I do have to admit - I am - was - whatever - a little thrown off guard by tonight.” She looked around the room. “I was mentally prepared for a dinner with our Clarke and Bellamy and Octavia around, not - .”

“A candlelit dinner with just me?” He finished up drily. He sighed as he idly traced his thumb up the lines of her fingers. “Octavia and Bellamy mean well, but they’re not exactly subtle.”

She grinned at him.

“Apparently neither is Clarke.” She leaned forward. “I am glad to be having dinner with just you. I just - .” She cast a look at her outfit before meeting his eyes again. “I can’t shake the nervousness. And I didn’t exactly dress for a first date with Marcus Kane.”

He shook his head, taking in her black ruffled blouse and dark jeans.

“You look beautiful, Abby.”

She smiled at him, turning her hand until their fingers were intertwined.

“The first date outfit is much nicer.” She peered up at him through her lashes. “A bit nicer and…tighter.”

He felt his eyebrows creep up his forehead, the air in the room instantly warmer around them. He swallowed.

“Then I guess I’ll need to officially ask you on a first date, then.”

She grinned at him, all nervousness replaced by something warmer, more mischievous.

“Guess you will.” She leaned back away from him and gestured at the food in front of them. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy this unofficial date.”

He nodded slowly, an idea suddenly popping in his mind. As much as he appreciated the time alone with Abby, he wanted their first date to actually and intentionally be a first date, not some well-meaning but cobbled together attempt from their respective kids. This needed to feel more like - well, more like all those times eating together during soccer season and less like two adults on a date together.

“Do you want to eat out on the balcony? There’s a bench out there we can sit on and it’s a nice view.” He smiled. “It’s no thrilling soccer game, but we can sit out there with our food in our laps and it’ll be just less date-like and more - .”

“Two old friends casually eating dinner together who want to be on a date?”

He nodded, a smile playing across his lips.

“Exactly.”

She returned his smile.

“Sounds perfect.”

She withdrew her hand from his and grabbed her plate and wine glass and waited as he did the same. They walked outside together and sat down on the wooden bench, their plates in their laps and wine glasses on the floor next to them. The city lights twinkled before them, the faraway sounds of the city drifting up to the balcony.

He’d never considered himself to be especially romantic, but he couldn’t help but think that the view was more stunning with Abby beside him.

After a few quiet moments of eating, Abby put down her fork.

“You’re right. It’s no thrilling soccer game, but the view isn’t half bad.”

He turned towards her and waited for her to face him. Then, before he could convince himself otherwise, he reached up and brushed a fallen strand of hair away from her face.

“I’d say the company makes it better.”

She smiled up at him and turned her face into his palm, breathing out a small laugh before turning back to meet his gaze.

He felt his breath catch at the look of undisguised tenderness in her eyes. He leaned forward and -

Was jolted out of the moment by the clattering of his plate onto the floor of his balcony.

He closed his eyes momentarily before taking a deep breath and looking down at Abby.

“Guess that’s my cue to clean up and go get the nutella truffles that I made for dessert.”

She smiled at him, though there was a slightly strained quality to it.

“You go grab us the truffles, I’ll pour us more wine.”

He picked up their plates and headed inside, his heart still pounding from the broken moment of intimacy. Perhaps it was better this way, he rationalized to himself as he put the dishes in the sink and grabbed the truffles from the fridge. This wasn’t technically a first date, so the gentlemanly thing to do was probably to wait until then.

He nodded to himself as he closed the fridge door, then made his way back outside.

Abby was leaning against his balcony wall, their wine glasses resting on the ledge in front of her. She turned and smiled at him as he came towards her, the moonlight catching on the gesture and lighting up her face. She locked eyes with him, a look of heat and want in them that made him want to stand still and rush towards her.

He was abruptly confronted by the fact that he didn’t want to wait to kiss her. That he had wanted to kiss her for weeks, for months now. Since that night of that rained out game, and every single moment since. He had spent years wondering what might have been, months tormented over what might be. And now - in this moment - he thought: why not now?

So he set down the bowl in hands and walked to her, his hands coming to rest firmly on her hips, his eyes never leaving her face. She was staring at him intently, her eyes blown nearly black. He reached up and cupped her face, relishing the feel of her skin, the small intake of breath that sounded like anticipation and want rolled into one.

He trailed his fingertips across her cheek, then leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. He did it softly at first, not wanting to ruin the moment by asking for too much, too soon. But then she moved in closer to him, her hands coming up and carding through his hair, her lips pressing back against his emphatically. Her mouth opened under his and suddenly nine months of longing came rushing through him. He tilted his head for better access to her, his tongue licking its way into her mouth, his fingertips pressing into her hips.

The kiss was at once familiar and novel, like coming home after years away. It was everything he remembered and everything he had dreamed of. It was a waterfall rush in his ears and a steady, joyful beat in his chest. He pressed in closer to her, his tongue sliding against hers, and had the wild, sudden, true thought that he had not been this happy in years. That he did not think he could be this happy again.

He smiled into the kiss, let it shift into something less frantic, more indulgent. Allowed himself the luxury of time, of sweetness, small, affectionate kisses punctuated between longer, passionate ones.

Finally, with one, last lingering kiss, he stepped away from her and looked down at her. Her eyes were wide and dark with desire, her lips red and swollen. He smiled at her and had to keep himself from kissing her again when she smiled at him.

They stood that way for a long moment before he felt her take a deep breath and she lean back to look up at him.

“Marcus, wh - .”

“It just -.” He looked down at her and shook his head, stepping away from her slightly. “It seemed like the right moment for it.”

She smiled up at him, then tugged him back towards her. She slid her arms around his waist and locked her fingers together behind him.  

“Marcus, what question did you think I was asking?”

“Why now?”

She laughed, the sound full and free in the quiet of the night. She buried her face in his chest for a moment to stifle the sound before she reaching up and planting a kiss on his lips.

“Oh, Marcus. I wasn’t wondering why now.” She stood up on tiptoe and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I was wondering what took you so long.”

He looked down at her in surprise before he laughed out loud, burying his face in her air to muffle the sound.

“Oh, god, Abby - if you - .” He threaded his hands through her hair and bent down to kiss her forehead, the tip of her nose, his lips tracing a path along her cheekbone until they ended on her lips. He pressed a soft kiss there, his tongue gently probing entry into her mouth, deepening the kiss for a moment before he drew back. He kissed along her jawline until his mouth found the hollow beneath her ear and she shivered against him, pressing herself closer to his body.

“I’ve wanted to for months, Abby,” he murmured, the words a caress against her soft skin. He kissed her neck, letting the wet press of his lips linger before he continued. “That night we had dinner at your house.” He trailed his mouth down the line of her neck. “The semi-finals game.” He smiled against her as he flicked his tongue out against her collarbone. “Every single time I had a moment alone with you, I wanted to do this.”  

Abby threw her head back to give him better access to her neck, groaning out loud as he began to lave open mouthed kisses along the delicate lines of her neck.

She tightened her grip in his hair.

“You should’ve, Marcus,” she said breathily.

He smiled against her skin, trailing his kisses back up her neck until he ended up at her lips again.

“I should’ve,” he agreed, pressing a kiss into her lips. She immediately deepened the kiss, her hands tugging him down towards her. He groaned into her mouth, his fingers tracing patterns into the skin beneath her shirt. He felt her hands tighten in his hair before she broke off the kiss abruptly.

“Marcus, I - I can’t stay the night,” she said breathlessly.

His eyes widened as he moved his hands back from underneath the hem of her shirt.

“Oh God, Abby. I wasn’t - I mean, I didn’t think - .”

“I want to,” she said quickly, a smile on her face. “I really, really want to.” Her eyes drifted over him in a way that lit his whole body with desire. “But I can’t tonight. Clarke - .”

He reached up and wrapped his hands around hers, bringing them to his face and kissing her fingertips.

“I understand completely, Abby. No need to explain.”

He lowered her hand and threaded his fingers through them, tipping forward to give her one last, lingering kiss before stepping back from her. He took one look at her swollen lips and soft hair and took another step back, just for certainty’s sake. She looked at the two foot gulf between them and laughed.

“Am I really that tempting?” She asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.

He shook his head.

“Almost unbearably so.” He smiled as a blush lit her face.

She looked at her watch.

“I should probably get going. Clarke’s manufactured emergency should be ending soon.”

He picked up the truffles from the bench.

“Here, I’ll wrap these up for you.”

They walked into the kitchen, the air once again heavy with tension - though now the kind tinged with desire rather than uncertainty. He wrapped up the truffles as she cleared the dishes, their movements easy in the small kitchen despite all that had just happened between them.

He handed her the truffles as they walked to the door, his hand at the small of her back.  

“Thank you for dinner and dessert, Marcus,” she said, reaching out to grab his hand.

He looked down at her and smiled.

“We’ll do it again this Friday? Maybe try a date that isn’t arranged by our respective kids?”

She smiled brightly up at him and nodded.

“I’m definitely up to try it.” She stepped into him and pressed her lips firmly onto his, but stepping back before he could deepen the kiss. “I look forward to our first official date.” She squeezed his hand before letting go. “Good night, Marcus,” she said with a smile as she stepped out through the door.

“Good night, Abby,” he said, watching her walk down the path with a smile. 

Now, to plan their first, real date. 


End file.
